


Click

by Ponaco



Series: Click [1]
Category: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (TV 2012), Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles - All Media Types
Genre: Eventual Romance, F/M, Gen, Heavy Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-03
Updated: 2014-10-15
Packaged: 2018-02-16 00:19:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 29
Words: 87,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2248899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ponaco/pseuds/Ponaco
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When insomnia takes hold Donatello tries to find solace in his work.</p><p>Winner of 2014 Stealthy Stories fanfiction competition: 1st place Best Drama, 2nd place Best Action/Adventure, 1st place Best Romance, 1st place Best Donatello, 2nd place Best Canon Ally: April O'Neil, 1st place Best Multi-Chapter, 1st place Best Over-All Story</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Note: This story is set in the TMNT 2012 universe in the not so distant future.
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own the Ninja Turtles or any of the other TMNT characters referenced in this fic.

Click

By: Ponaco

Chapter One

 

Click, click, click. The tap of the keyboard has a way of calming my nerves. The constant, repetitive sound acts as a reminder that work is getting done, that plans are moving forward. No matter what is going wrong, no matter what is making my anxiety thrash around in my stomach like a particularly vindictive fish, if the click, click, click of computer keys fills my lab I at least know I'm on my way to solving a problem. Never stop moving. I can sleep when I'm dead. Although I'm not entirely sure death could quiet the constant noise in my head. My typing can't keep up with the rapid fire pace of my imagination.

_Maybe if you had five fingers you could type faster._

Self-defeating thoughts like that tend to slow my momentum to a crawl. I try to avoid them. I can usually avoid them. I have far too much on my plate to contemplate what ifs and never could bes. They do tend to sneak up on me sometimes though. When I'm tired or frustrated and things aren't going right, they creep out of the shadows with sharp talons and pestering little bird beaks that peck away at my resolve. Nasty little thoughts that don't help my anxiety one bit and certainly don't help me finish my current project. Push them away. Type something. Write more code, any code. You can fix it later just keep moving forward.

_You would have been done by now if your big, clumsy fingers didn't keep hitting the wrong keys._

It's never a good sign when the nasty thoughts come together in a complete sentence. They are begging for me to acknowledge them, to give credence to their accusations, to argue against them. It's no use arguing with myself after all. Although I'd be lying if I said I never rose to the bait or if I said I didn't often rise to it. My hypothesis on the matter is that talking through a problem out loud is one of the best ways to reach a conclusion, even if there is no one but you there to hear it. Although it could simply be that my inner critic sounds an awful lot like Raphael and even a fake Raphael built of doubt and anxiety could drive the most stoic of people to confrontation and I'm not exactly the poster child for stoicism.

I push away from the computer desk with a heavy slide of my chair. I've lost track of time. A quick glance at the clock and the sudden sharp crick in my neck let me know I've been working for far longer than I thought. If I was above ground I might be able to see the first, timid sunshine of morning creep over the horizon and flutter across the rooftops of the waking city. There was no point in trying to sleep now. Morning training would rear its ugly head before I could relax enough to reach anything close to rest. It was going to be a long, most likely painful, session.

_If you didn't take so long to do everything you could have been asleep hours ago._

The move from my chair to my feet is not a pleasant one. The crick in my neck settles heavy on my shoulders and the arches of my feet cramp when I attempt to put weight on them. I take in a slow, steadying breath and settle my hands in front of my chest before reaching them above my head with a deep inhale. Stretching would only get me so far. My arms and legs felt numb and heavy like I was carrying an invisible weight I couldn't shake. That weight was exhaustion and I knew the feel of it all too well. It clung to me when I went without sleep, when the click, click of the keyboard kept my heavy eyelids open and tapped out a soundtrack for those nasty thoughts to surface with increasing eloquence and insight.

_What exactly do you think will happen if you go to sleep? You can't accomplish anything when you're awake so why not shut your eyes and go to bed?_

I look down at my hands. I shouldn't. I know I shouldn't, but for a genius I'm not always that bright. My clunky, three-fingered mitts stare back. It's useless to resent them, to resent any of myself that I can't change. They are what they are. I am what I am and there's no getting around it. There's no fixing it. There is nothing that needs fixing. I ball my left hand into a fist and reach for my discarded T-phone with the other. No new messages. I know that without looking. I would have heard it ring or chirp out a text alert, but I look anyway. I have been known to get caught up in my work after all. I might have missed it. There was nothing to miss.

_What did you expect? For her to drop everything and call you with an update? Perhaps a play by play of how much fun she's having with him?_

"Shut up," I grumble, rubbing my eyes with more force than is probably advisable. I push down with my palms until little star bursts explode in my vision. I want to hit something or more accurately someone. It's important to be accurate. Instead I let out a sigh that echoes up towards the vaulted ceiling of my lab and only makes my shoulders slump further. I tuck the phone into my belt and lean over the computer to save my work. Even the staccato click of the keyboard can't calm me now that I've thought of the one thing I was adamant about avoiding. My stomach gives a sudden, angry growl and I'm happy for the distraction. I can't remember when I ate last.

There is no silent way to open the door to my lab, believe me I've had years of trial and error. The heavy, metal contraption squeals ever so slightly when I open it just far enough to slip through. The lair is always an odd thing without the noise of my family filling every crevice. Like it isn't quite a home without the television blaring or the clang of weapons emitting from the dojo. I know it's only a matter of time before the whole place roars to life. The murky flood light above the couches only cooling the sleeping dragon. I pad across the main living space towards the kitchen, straining my ears to make sure there isn't anyone else moving about. I'm not in the mood for surprises. The kitchen is dark and quiet save for the muffled shuffling and tiny meows of Ice cream kitty in the freezer. I squint at the sudden influx of light when I flick the switch and stagger over to the coffee pot in the corner. Coffee will make things better. It hasn't failed me yet.

"You're going to eat something, right? That stuff'll eat through your stomach if you don't."

I jump at the voice, so intent on the small task of filling the coffee filter I'm easily taken by surprise. The coffee grounds explode across the counter-top and I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from cursing or hitting something in childish frustration. I'm letting today get the better of me and it isn't pleasant, it isn't endearing and it isn't acceptable. Pathetic.

_Can't even make a cup of coffee. What can you do, Genius?_

"You want me to make you an omelet?" Mikey asks. He's still lingering in the doorway, his eyes wide with concern, although he mostly keeps that to himself. "I was going to make one for me anyway," he adds with a sleepy smile.

"Sure, thanks," I say in reply, both for offering to make me breakfast and for not calling attention to the fact that he made me jump.

"No problem, man," he replies, scooting around me while humming what sounds suspiciously like a Christmas carol my exhausted mind can't quite place. "I had Casey get me some hot sauce. Ya know, the one with the devil on the bottle?"

The name is like ice water in my veins and I start to clean up the coffee grounds with renewed vigor. Don't think about it. The counter will be spotless by the time I am done. Mikey might be in his own world a good deal of the time, but he's remarkably observant when it suits him. He knows me as much as any of my brothers do. We have a series of wordless looks that pass between us when Raph and Leo are fighting or when he needs something explained or when I get to that place where the nasty thoughts live and sleep seems like an abstract concept. He pauses for only a second to hip check the refrigerator door shut, his arm full of ingredients.

"You get any sleep last night?" He presents it as a question, when one look at me would tell him the answer.

"I…I had work to do," I reply in place of actually answering out right. "Uh huh, uh huh," he says with a bobbled-headed, over exaggerated nod. He's trying to get me to crack a smile. It won't work.

"So that's what? Two nights in a row? Three? Are you trying for some kind of record? You can't stay awake forever, ya know."

"Eleven days," I mumble, remembering some long-ago read article. "The record is eleven days."

Mikey crinkles his nose before setting to the task of chopping onions. "And you're going to break it?" he says, quickly moving on to his next target, a green pepper. "I know you're smart and all, but that's a dumb idea, D."

"I'm not…I just…I'm just saying the record is eleven days. Two is nothing. Three is nothing," I say in a jumble of words that barely constitute a response.

_Why are you justifying yourself to him? He's already made up his mind about you. They all have. Pathetic._

Mikey is staring at me now. His knife is lifted, mid-chop and he's staring at me with those wide and worried eyes he wears when something is wrong. When I'm wrong. He's letting me know that I can tell him what's bothering me, even though I'm sure he already knows. They all must know. I'm not exactly opaque.

_She knows._

"Sorry, I just…I just have a lot on my mind," I say, turning my back on him and focusing once again on the task of making coffee.

"No worries, man," he says with a tiny laugh that sounds anything but cheerful. "You've always got a lot on your mind."

I lean forward on the counter and listen to the renewed sound of Mikey cutting vegetables. Chop, chop, chop, slice. It's not quite the click of a keyboard but it's steady and repetitive and helps to calm the increased rate of my heartbeats. The kitchen soon fills with the glorious smell of brewing coffee, followed shortly after by the sizzle and spray of onions in a frying pan. My stomach gives another growl, this one impatient with anticipation. Mikey's earlier humming has grown to a full-force belt of Rudolph the red nosed reindeer with lyrics that are only slightly close to being accurate. It does the impossible and brings the tiniest of smiles to my face. The warm cup of coffee in my hands only helps to improve my mood.

"Give it a rest, will ya? It's seven in the damn morning," Raphael snaps, stomping into the kitchen and smacking Mikey upside the head.

The hit puts an end to the song and any ghost of a smile I had mustered. Mikey swats away Raph's hand with a half-hearted swipe of the spatula and curl of his lip. "I can't help it if you don't appreciate the finer things in life," Mikey replies, cracking open several eggs in succession before mixing the ingredients. "Singing makes the food taste better."

Raphael lets out a dismissive snort, but doesn't make any further threats when Mikey continues his off-key rendition. I slump forward in my seat, leaning my face above the rim of the coffee cup. I take a few tentative sips and close my eyes to savor the taste. Coffee truly is one of the best things the world has to offer. I can feel Raphael watching me. Unlike Mikey who teeters on the edge of sad puppy dog eyes and tends to wait you out, Raph's gaze is as sharp and unyielding as his preferred fighting style. He doesn't hold punches in anything.

"What?" I grumble, not bothering to open my eyes as I take another sip of coffee.

"You look like crap." Always direct and to the point.

I suppose there's something to be said for that.Although I think I'd be more inclined to appreciate his honesty if it wasn't more often than not just cloaking criticism. I don't need help criticizing myself, I have it down to an art form all on my own. I choose the path of least resistance and only shrug in response. I don't have the energy to deal with him right now. Mikey plops a plate down in front of me with a worrisome clatter. Even though my stomach is hallow and empty the sight of the wiggly omelet turns my insides into a queasy knot. I think some nice, dry toast might have been a better option over a squiggly folded egg full of hot sauce and peppers.

"Thanks, Mikey," I say with a forced smile I'm sure doesn't reach my eyes.

"No problem," he says with a grin, turning back to the stove to make his own breakfast; apparently placated by my disingenuous smile and tentative bite of food.

Raphael isn't buying it. I take another bite, grateful that my stomach seems more willing to hold onto the food the more of it I force down. Raph leans forward and rests his crossed arms on the table top. He's watching my every move with an increasingly smug turn of his mouth. I'd like to wipe that look off his face. The more he smirks the angrier I get. Usually I can push it aside, convince myself it isn't worth pursuing. Nine times out of ten I'm not going to win a fight with my brother and fights with Raph always tend to end with violence. He doesn't hold his punches after all. My exhaustion gets the better of me. It tends to when I let it. I can't sit back and let him leer at me like he knows something I don't.

"What?" I say again, this time the word more like a clap of thunder.

_Nice job, Genius. That's exactly what he wanted. Why not punch yourself in the face and save everyone some time._

His smirk that started me on the quick slide to anger grows and he leans back in his chair looking all the world like the cat that caught the canary. "You know you're more likely to blow us all up when you don't sleep."

I take in a sharp breath through my nose and stab forcefully at another fork-full of omelet; the eggs seem unappealing again and it takes a certain level of control to fight back my gag reflex. "I was writing code. I can't blow up the lair writing code," I reply around a mouthful of omelet. I had intended for my retort to sound cutting, in reality it was mostly whiny and defensive. "And mind your own business."

He lets out a harsh chuckle. It's his particular brand of laughter that's cutting and joyless without any sense of warmth one would hope for. It says more with two arrogant beats of sound than any fully formed words ever could. He thinks I'm being ridiculous. He thinks he knows better. Even if he is right the presumption gets under my skin and sets my teeth on edge. He knows he's getting to me because he adds before I have a chance to respond.

"All right, Donnie. I'll mind my own business, but how about you do everyone a favor and let us know when you're done moping so we can all stop walking on eggshells around you. It's just sad at this point, get over it, man. She's not worth it."

_You should have stayed in the lab_.

I don't have a response to that. What could I possibly say that wouldn't sound petty or defensive? Mikey is staring wide-eyed at the two of us, egg yolk dripping from the spatula held in his hand. He puts his hand on his hip and turns his disapproving look in Raph's direction.

"Dude…" he breathes, narrowing his eyes and setting his mouth in a firm line. "Not cool."

"Forget it, Mikey," I say, pushing away from the table and my half-eaten breakfast with a loud scrape of my chair.

I appreciate the gesture. It's good to know someone has my back. I try to leave. All I want is to leave that kitchen and the truth of my brother's words. I want to go hide in my lab and calm the thudding of my heart with the calm, steady click click of computer keys. It is a rare thing for me to ever truly get what I desire. Leo is in the doorway, his hand resting on the frame and successfully blocking my hasty exit. I don't know how long he has been standing there. My exhaustion is wreaking havoc on my spatial awareness. I'm not sure how long he has been standing there, but one look at the tense bearing of his shoulders and the slight narrowing at the corners of his eyes lets me know he isn't happy.

"We have a training session in twenty minutes," he says, silently refusing to let me pass. "I expect you all to be there."

He says 'all,' when he obviously means me. I give a small nod. I'd agree to anything if he would just let me leave the kitchen. He tries to hold my gaze but I dodge his eyes at every turn. I don't need a lecture. There's nothing he could say to me that my nagging inner voice hasn't shouted a hundred times. When my anxiety and doubt take hold and logic can't settle my nerves. He lingers for a few more painful seconds before letting his arm drop and stepping aside. I push past him before he can change his mind. I take in a deep breath once I'm free of the stuffy kitchen, closing my eyes for a second to collect my thoughts. There's no collecting them. Raph's words rattle around alongside my own doubts and accusations.

The sliver of light coming from my lab is like a beacon in a storm. I hurry towards it on shaky legs and heave the door shut behind me once I'm safely inside. I lean back against the cool metal and pull my knees up to my chest. I close my eyes and rest my face in my hands. I count out the digits of Pi until the next number eludes me. I only reach twenty decimals, a pathetic showing in the grand scheme of things. It's an old habit, something that occupied my mind when sleep eluded me and I lay in my bed staring up at the dark ceiling. Some people count sheep. I find numbers far more calming than farm animals.

_You gonna cry, Freak?_

"No," I hiss, the word shaking as badly as my tired limbs.

I'm not surprised when there's a sharp knock on the door. It was too much to hope that I could be left alone after such an embarrassing showing. I expect to find Mikey on the other side, all worried-eyed and holding my unfinished breakfast as a peace offering. So when I crawl to my feet and pull the door open I can't hide my surprise when I find Leonardo staring back at me. He doesn't move from his spot. We've all received the same amount of training, but Leo's ability to remain so perfectly still has always been something of a wonder to me. I have too much to do, too many ideas to get down on paper before they disappear to reach that level of stillness. I'd be lying if I wasn't a bit jealous. It must be nice to just stop every now and then.

"Are you all right?" he asks, surprising me for the second time in under a minute. I feel my shoulders fall and lift again in a defeated shrug.

"Yeah," I say quietly, never that good at a lie, especially with such an obvious one. "I mean, I will be, just need some rest."

He's not talking about my obvious lack of rest. I know what he means, what he is implying. I am not ready to have that conversation. I don't need to have that conversation. Enough has already been said on the topic this morning and I'm not looking for a repeat performance. Leo will skirt around the issue. He'll talk in generalizations and knowing looks. That will have to be enough for now.

"Did you try meditating?" he asks as if that's the answer to all of life's problems. A good, long sit and chant. I nod.

"Yeah, I uh…yesterday I think. Didn't really help so I worked on the code for the security system. You know how it's been glitching in the east tunnel. Figured if I couldn't sleep I might as well get some work done," I ramble and throw in a forced smile for good measure.

He doesn't look convinced. "That work can wait. It's not worth risking your health." I nod again, mentally replaying this same conversation from years of re-runs.

Go to bed, Donnie. Finish that in the morning, Donnie. You'll make yourself sick. You'll blow up the lair. Just go to sleep. Why don't you just go to sleep? As if it's that easy. If meditation and counting sheep were all it took for sleep to conquer my endless thoughts I would have been in bed hours ago, blissfully snoring away my worries. I've grown tired of trying to explain my insomnia to a family that is so foreign to the concept I might as well be shouting at them in Klingon. So I do what I always do when there is no hope of them understanding me, I tell them what they want to hear.

"I know, I'm sorry," I say with another rueful smile. "I lost track of time, won't happen again."

The worried crease along his forehead doesn't disappear but he doesn't push the topic. "Come on, we have training," he says. Training, Leo's other cure all. There is something to be said about physical activity being linked to mood and mental stability. There's science behind it that I can appreciate and site. However, at the moment, when my eyes are so tired it feels as if something is trying to push them out of my skull from the inside out and my stiff muscles and joints ache from hours spent hunched over a keyboard any workout sounds like an insurmountable task. I'm going to try anyway because that's what's expected. Maybe they'll feel pity and go easy on me; although I don't expect Raph to pull his punches.


	2. Chapter Two

Chapter Two

I regret this decision. I regret it when my knees wobble in protest to every move I make. I regret it when I have to lean on my staff to help rise from the mat after an embarrassingly bad attempt to deflect an attack from Leonardo. I mostly regret it when I trip over my own feet only to find Master Splinter looming over me with that slight twitch to his nose he reserves for times of disappointment. I reach for my staff as it rolls across the mat and out of my reach with a hallow clatter. It might have been funny if it was happening to someone else. I try to hold back a groan as I struggle to sit up, rubbing the back of my head where it connected with the floor.

“Donatello.” I cringe at the sound of my name. He doesn’t raise his voice, he doesn’t have to. Sensei waits for me to kneel, his expression doesn’t change but I know he isn’t pleased with how long it takes me.

My brothers keep a respectable distance. Usually when one of us earns the annoyed noise twitch of Master Splinter it’s a thing of amusement for the others. No one is laughing this time. Sensei lets out a long, slow breath before sliding his hands to clasp at the small of his back. I lower my head and stare at the intricate pattern of the mat beneath my knees. My eyes are blurry and the red and gold design starts to blend together in a jumbled mess.

“You are through with training for today,” he says.

_Don’t look up, it’s a trick. It has to be a trick. No one gets out of training._

“I…Master Splinter. I’m sorry, I’ll try…”

“I said you are through with training for today,” he says, interrupting my stuttering attempt at an explanation. “Go have a rest. You are in no condition to fight.”

I don’t move. I’m not sure my sleep deprived brain can process the fact that I’m being sent to my room like a disobedient toddler. Master Splinter’s tail swishes across the mat and he lightly rests a hand on my shoulder, taking it away so quickly I barely have time to register the weight of it. His back is to me when I muster the strength to raise my eyes. I catch sight of my brothers to my left. They don’t make eye contact for which I am grateful. Even Raphael looks uncomfortable. Not annoyed, not angry; uncomfortable.

_The word you’re looking for is pity. They’re all too embarrassed to even look you in the eye. Pathetic._

I want to flee. The sudden desire to run is sharp and blinding at the base of my neck and I fumble for my staff with hands that refuse to work as they should. There’s another quiet swish of Master Splinter’s tail and the dull thud of Michelangelo’s nunchucks clanging together at his side. I grab hold of my staff and haul myself to standing, swaying slightly on unsteadying feet. My heart is racing and the exit to the dojo seems miles away as I set my tunnel vision towards escape.

_You couldn’t even make it through ten minutes. No wonder you’re Sensei’s least favorite._

I chastise myself instantly for letting that thought creep out of the place where dark inclinations live. It isn’t fair to Master Splinter and it isn’t necessarily accurate. Although I can’t help but round back to it every so often. That quiet, little doubt that I don’t stack up to the others. He loves all of us. He loves me, I don’t doubt the sincerity when he says it, but logically I find it hard to believe that he doesn’t love some of us just a little bit more than others. He might not mean to, it might not be a conscious decision, but it’s natural to place things in order; even your children and I think it’s an obvious truth where I’d fall in that line up.

_It’s because you’re the worst fighter. That’s where worth is placed in this family._

“Donatello.” He stops me halfway to my lab.

I didn’t even realize that was the direction my feet had carried me. It earns me another disappointed nose twitch and makes the horrible, dark thoughts ring out a chorus of I told you sos. I don’t say anything, too afraid of what accusations I might throw or reservations I might admit to. He stands in front of me and lowers a hand onto my shoulder. I grip my hand tightly around the tape at the center of my staff, afraid that I’ll drop it again if I don’t cling on for dear life.

“You must rest,” he says with a tightening of his hand.

_He thinks there’s something wrong with you. They all do._

I nod, feeling my chest tighten and wanting nothing more than to crawl under a rock and hide for days. “I…I know, Sensei. I’m sorry.”

“Do not apologize,” he says. His hand falls from my shoulder. “Give me the staff,” he says, holding his hand out expectantly.

_Now he doesn’t even trust you with a weapon._

I hold out the staff, unable to get my fingers to open. He pries it from my grip. “Go lie down, my son,” he insists.

The annoyed nose twitch is gone, replaced by something equally disconcerting; concerned eyes and flattened ears. He’s worried, not angry, not disappointed; worried. It makes me feel even guiltier about doubting his affections. I reach my hand up and take hold of my opposite arm, tightening my grip until the sensation distracts and holds my frantic thoughts. It grounds me enough that I can muster a small nod and start a slow shuffle in the direction of my bedroom. I’ve reached my limit. I know that now and it starts a low burn of shame deep in my stomach. I should not have let myself go this far. I should know better. I should recognize the signs.

There’s a hand on my shoulder again, strong and deliberate and he pulls me forward. I can’t quite recall the last time I hugged my father. I assumed years ago it was simply something most of us out grew. Even as a child it wasn’t an overly common experience. He always showed affection in other ways and usually that was enough; usually. I can remember sleepless nights in the past when I was too young to understand and my anxiety dug in as fear, sharp and unrelenting. I had wanted nothing more than to run to Sensei’s room and hide from the world, to feel safe. I never did, I never asked for that assurance and I never sought it out even though the want of it was nearly as painful as the fear behind it. The embrace doesn’t last long, but the mere knowledge that it occurred is enough to break any strength or composure I possess. He keeps hold of the tops of my arms and forces me to meet his gaze. I fidget and nod again for no real reason beyond my inability to speak. I swallow back a lump in my throat and bite my bottom lip before it can consider trembling. I will not cry. I will not. I may have reached the edge, but I will not go over it. It is not acceptable. I am not a scared child anymore and I won’t let this thing beat me.

He holds my gaze for a moment longer before letting his hands fall away. “Sleep, my son,” he says, his voice oddly quiet. “Serenity can only come when the mind and the body are rested.”

“Hai, Sensei,” I mumble with another awkward nod and an uneven sway of my feet. I listen to the quiet swish of his tail across the floor as he returns to the dojo and my brother’s training. The walk to my room is little more than a stumbling blur. I fumble with the doorknob and don’t bother to turn on the light. I shuffle the few feet towards the bed and collapse in an undignified heap. I turn to one side and then the other, sitting up to punch my pillow into a more comfortable shape. My joints ache no matter how I position myself and even though my eyelids are heavy I can’t shake the growing need to open them and stare up into the darkness.

_Just close your eyes. Go to sleep. Stop thinking, you’re still thinking. Stop it. What’s wrong with you?_

I reach up and fumble in the darkness for the tiny fan mounted on the headboard, hoping the ambient noise might drown out some of my louder thoughts. I punch the pillow again for good measure and pull the blankets up to my chin, forcing my eyes shut. I will not open them. I will not. The hum of the fan sets a steady, repetitive pattern and I slow my breath to match it. Steady, calm, focus on breathing. Especially don’t focus on how much your knees ache and the way the hard mattress drills into your hip. Don’t think about how you made a fool of yourself this morning. Don’t think about how you’re going to explain it away this time. Think of numbers, count, breath, sleep. 3.14159265358979323846264338327950288419716…

* * *

 

There’s a bird in my room. No, that can’t be right. Why would a bird be in the sewer? Then what is that noise? I blink my eyes open, my mask having tangled half-way down my face while I slept. Sleep. I had managed to fall asleep and now that stupid bird woke me up. No, that can’t be right. T-Phone. It’s my phone. April’s ringtone. I flail against the blankets wrapped around my legs and roll over towards the bedside table. Fumbling in the dark I spot the illuminated screen and drag the phone across the table, squinting against the sudden light. She left a voicemail, the little icon blinking up at me in temptation. I pull off my mask and stumble on sleepy legs to the light switch, wincing as the bulb burns to life over my head. It’s Sunday morning. I’ve slept for the better half of a day and my mind is still foggy and my limbs heavy I sit on the edge of my bed and stare down at the glowing screen of my T-Phone. She left a voicemail. I should listen to it. It could be important. She could be in trouble. No harm can come from listening to it. She called me, so really it would be wrong not to listen to it. I slide my thumb over the icon and hold the phone up to my ear.

“Hey, Donnie, I’m sure you’re at morning training but I was wondering if you could come over tonight and help me with my calculus homework. Text me when you get a chance.”

I resist the urge to listen to the message again. It’s nothing special, she isn’t in trouble, but just the sound of her voice is enough to put me in a better mood. She wants me to come over.

_Yeah, because she needs something from you. She only calls when she needs something._

I can’t stop the thought from calling out from the back of my mind, but now that I’m rested I have a far better chance of ignoring it or pushing it from my head entirely. I set the phone on my bedside table and climb to my feet, stretching my arms above my head before leaning over and touching my toes. She wants me to come over. The reason behind it is irrelevant. She called me and she wants me to come over. When she visits the lair it can always be under the pretext of seeing my entire family. Even if she called for help, she still called me and I’ll take what I can get.

I can hear the blare of the television and the muffled voices of my family when I open the door to my bedroom. I’m not in any dying rush to face them after my near breakdown the day before. Embarrassment and shame threaten to win out over my brief moment of happiness. I try to sneak across the hallway to the bathroom without being spotted. Michelangelo’s head pops out of his own bedroom before I make it two steps. I can’t pretend like I don’t see him, better to get this over with I suppose. Pull the Band-Aid off in one go. A grin spreads across his face, crinkling his freckles and nose.

“Dude, I was about ready to send in a rescue crew. Thought you might have died or something.” He says it as a joke, but there is concern tugging at the corners of his eyes and I feel guilty for having caused it. Never one to whisper his voice has snagged the attention of my other brothers. I can see them craning their necks over the back of the couch, neither making the extra effort to come over.

“Yeah…sorry, lost track of time. Guess I was more tired than I thought,” I say, wrapping my mask around my hands as a distraction from making eye contact.

He slaps me on the back of the shoulder and lets out a laugh, apparently appeased by my answer. “No worries, D. Happens to the best of us.”

I offer a small smile in appreciation. Even if it isn’t true it was nice of him to say it.

“Donatello.” Master Splinter’s voice makes me wince and I quickly roll my shoulders and shift on my feet in an attempt to hide the gesture.

He stands beside Mikey with his hands clasped in front of him. I can’t bring myself to look him in the eye. The flash of memory from the previous day makes my face burn with shame and embarrassment. I made a fool of myself and Master Splinter saw the worst of it. Some part of me hopes he’ll pretend like it never happened. That he’ll spare me further embarrassment as my brothers watch the whole thing unfold like a car crash you can’t look away from.

“How are you feeling, my son?” he asks. His voice is low and I hear the creak of the couch as Leo and Raph lean forward in an attempt to catch his words.

“Fine,” I say quickly, which technically isn’t true so I add before he can call me out for lying. “Better.”

He nods, I think he might rest a hand on my shoulder but he stays stoic at Mikey’s side. “That is good to hear,” he says. “We’ll discuss it further later.” Later.

When my brothers aren’t openly staring at the show.

“Hai, Sensei,” I reply even though further discussion is the last thing I want.

Burying the whole incident under ten feet of concrete and denial sounds far more appealing. He gives another shallow nod and glides off towards the dojo, no doubt to meditate.

Mikey waits until he rounds the corner before turning back to me with a smile that seems a touch too forced, even for him. “You hungry?” he asks, bouncing slightly on the balls of his feet.

“Yes, a little,” I say, when in reality I’m starving.

His smile turns more genuine. He’s still worried I’ll break at any moment, but food, food is something he can take care of. Food is Mikey’s domain. It’s something he can do to make me feel better, which makes him feel better. So I’ll eat whatever he makes with a thank you and if I can manage it, a smile on my face. He shouldn’t have to worry about me. None of them should. I lost control and it is not acceptable. I’m supposed to be the one who fixes things, not the other way around.

“Awesome, you go clean up and I’ll make lunch. Something good, I promise,” he smacks my shoulder again.

I pitch forward slightly and he laughs, it’s cheerful and not taunting and lightens my worry a few notches. Things can’t be entirely bleak if Michelangelo is still laughing. He barrels down the hallway and takes the stairs in a single leap, narrowly avoiding crashing into the couch and tripping over Raph’s legs.

“Watch where you’re going!” he barks, making a half-hearted swipe at Mikey even though he’s already half-way to the kitchen with another burst of laughter.

The bathroom is cool and murky, with crackling overhead lights that cast pools of brightness on the green tiled floor and walls. The lair’s plumbing system was one of the first major overhauls I completed when I was big enough and smart enough to lend my skills to improving our quality of life. Just because we live underground in the sewers it doesn’t mean we shouldn’t have heat and hot and cold running water. Somehow Master Splinter turns a blind eye to the technically illegal ways I keep the lights on and the clean water flowing.

The hot water is the best thing I’ve encountered in days. It soothes my muscles and clears the sleepy fog still clinging to my thoughts. I understand the science behind it. How heat makes my blood warmer and quickens the chemical reactions that improve muscle activity. There is a reason turtles like to sun bathe after all. I understand the science, but in the moment I can only focus on the results. I haven’t felt this awake in days, like stepping out of a dream or prying my hands away from my eyes. You’ll need to be awake if you’re going to help April study. The brief encounters with my family almost made me forget the voicemail still saved on my phone. The clarity spurned on by the hot water brings it crashing back. I should text her after lunch. There’s no way Master Splinter will approve of me going out on my own tonight and Mikey will be stuck to my side like glue.

I go over multiple escape plans in my head as I wash away the darkness of the last few days. The plans continue to get more elaborate and ridiculous as I mentally categorize them into a list from the most practical to the impossible. I’m reluctant to turn off the water, but I can’t stay in here all day and my growling stomach increasingly attracts most of my attention. Steam lingers in the air and coats every surface with clammy condensation. I wipe clear a space on the mirror over the sink and crinkle my nose at the green face staring back. I lean forward, pressing my forehead against my reflection. It’s silly, but I don’t look like myself without my mask and after drying off it is the first thing I put on. It’s juvenile to think a small piece of cloth can hold so much of my identity. Juvenile or not, I feel better with it tied around my head.

The television is off when I make my way through the main room of the lair. There are clangs and raised voices drifting out from the kitchen. I pause in the doorway, counting to ten and taking in a steady breath before walking in to the room. Mikey is at the stove stirring vigorously at whatever remains hidden in the pot over the burner. I don’t care what it is. The smell of anything cooking is enough to make my stomach curl into a painful knot. Leonardo and Raphael look up from the table as I slide into the seat next to Leo’s. I offer a tiny, awkward wave when the silence borders on unbearable.

_A wave? Really? What’s wrong with you? Are you physically incapable of acting normal?_

Raph is the first to break the silence, his words rolling out around a mouthful of pork rinds. “Are you done freaking out?” he asks with all the tact of a lumbering rhino.

I don’t appreciate the tone, but at least he isn’t acting any different towards me. If he was kind and understanding I would be more worried.

“Dude,” Mikey warns, raising his spoon to smack him upside the head.

“It’s fine,” I say, pulling my T-Phone from my belt to keep my hands busy. “I’m fine.” I scroll through the messages on my phone, not settling on April’s name until I’m certain my brothers can’t see the screen. I shoot off a quick text, assuring her that I’ll be over later before opening up a game of mahjong for cover.

Raph snorts at the back of his throat, clearly not believing a word of it, Leonardo watches me over the top of his comic book and Mikey rings his hands around the handle of the soup spoon gripped tightly between his fingers. I hate when they look at me like that.

_Say something believable or it will only get worse. Don’t just stare at your phone like a weirdo._

“Seriously,” I say, trying for my most sincere and mentally stable tone of voice. “I’ll be fine. You don’t have to worry.”

“Good, see, everything is good. Donnie is all right now, we don’t have to worry and everything is fine,” Mikey says, clapping his hands together and splattering soup all over the floor in the process. “Now, who wants some pizza noodle soup? I’ve added a secret ingredient this time.”

“Is it pizza?” Raph mutters, brushing off some stray soup splatter from his arm.

“No,” Mikey replies too quickly for it to be anything but pizza.

It could be algae and worms and I’d eat three bowls at this point. Just keep your head down and eat your lunch. Don’t draw attention to yourself and maybe no one will notice if you leave tonight. It was a faulty plan at best. I might be a ninja capable of stealth, but so were my brothers and it was three against one.


	3. Chapter Three

Chapter Three

 

I can’t entirely block out the blare of the television, no matter how hard I try. Leonardo got his hands on a VHS of some long-forgotten Space Heroes Christmas special and apparently is incapable of watching it at any volume besides blasting. He is currently sitting inches from the T.V. with a dopey grin plastered on his face. At least he is properly distracted. It won’t take much for me to sneak away undetected. Raphael is off somewhere in the lair, unseen. I can’t pinpoint his exact location, but chances are he’s not in my lab; my decided upon means of escape. He won’t be a problem. Michelangelo however, could derail my plans before I even put them into action.

As I anticipated he stayed at my side for the remainder of the day following lunch. His excuses laughably elaborate as to why he constantly had to follow my every move like an over-protective duckling, especially when we both knew the real reason for his want to stay close. I would not entirely mind the company if I didn’t have some place else to be. Someplace that did not require a chaperone.

I glance down at my phone for what realistically could have been the hundredth time in the last hour, getting increasingly nervous with every minute that ticks by. I can’t let it get too late. April has school in the morning and a late-night study session isn’t the best environment to learn in. Her last text arrived over a half an hour ago, letting me know that she was home and to come over at any time. I don’t think she meant after midnight. I slide the phone into my belt and glance over at the door to my lab.

_Now or never._

I try to stand, momentarily forgetting in my single-minded desire to escape that Mikey has himself wrapped around my feet. It is not my most graceful moment. I attempt to keep my balance, stepping on Mikey’s hand in the flailing process. His surprised cry and my crash to the ground are enough to capture Leonardo’s attention. After he pauses his show of course. I disentangle my legs from under Mikey’s shell and use the couch to push to my feet. Leo raises the ridge above his left eye in question, as though we planned the whole thing.

“Where are you going?” Mikey demands, eyes wide as he leans forward, like he might dart after me at any moment and tackle me to the ground.

“To the bathroom,” I say with an exasperated sigh.

“Oh…all right, then,” he murmurs, leaning back against the couch cushion and motioning with a nod of his head for Leo to press play.

_Plan B it is._

I won’t have much time before he comes looking for me. There’s a ventilation hatch I can crawl through in the bathroom. It isn’t ideal and it is a bit sneakier than I would prefer, but I’ve made up my mind to go and I’m not about to back out now. Space Heroes blares back to life and I consider locking the door behind me as I slip into the bathroom. I climb up onto the counter and slide my fingers under the edge of the grate covering the vent. It’s heavy and dust-covered and I turn my face and cough as it burns my eyes. I carefully lay the vent down along the wall and prepare to hoist myself into the opening.

_Someone is coming in._

I have just enough time to close the grate before the bathroom door bursts open. I should have locked it. I stifle another cough and try to come up with a reasonable excuse as to why I’m standing on the counter. If it was Mikey reasonable wouldn’t necessarily be needed, slightly believable at best usually did the trick with my younger brother. Raphael on the other hand, looked for confrontation with the same zeal that most people used for avoiding it. You could tell him the truth, you could tell him the sky was blue and he would shout at you that it was red just to get a rise out of you. The bathroom door swung shut behind him and he stood over the threshold, looking infuriatingly smug.

“Going somewhere?” he asks, crossing his arms and tilting his head ever so slightly.

“No,” I say, too fast and too forceful to sound anything close to truthful. “Uh huh,” he murmurs.

“And why don’t I believe you?”

I decide to appeal to his loner tendencies. If anyone can appreciate the need to get away every now and then it has to be Raphael. He’s practically modeled his entire personality around it. I sigh and rub the back of my neck, thinking it best to avoid his eyes if I’m ever to be believed. “I just…I need to get out of here for a couple hours, clear my head.”

He doesn’t say anything in response and I chance a look up to see if he’s even still in the room. He most certainly is and the smug curl of his lip has settled into an angry scowl.

“And you felt like you had to sneak out to do that?”

_It’s a trap, don’t answer him. He’s setting you up for the kill._

“Well, um, Mikey has been following me around all day and I thought, well Leo would never let me leave on my own, and well…”

“So you’re not sneaking out to go see April?”

His words are like a slap to the face and I am certain I flinch. I swallow back the lump in my throat and brace myself for the argument I’m certain lurks on the horizon. My silence speaks volumes and there’s no denying my true intentions. They burn an embarrassing path across my face and if I’m thankful for anything it’s that I’m partly concealed by shadow. He shakes his head and lets out a sigh. It isn’t angry and the defeated sound of it takes me by surprise.

“How long are you going to keep doing this to yourself, man?” he asks and I’m surprised again at how tired he sounds.

“I don’t…it’s not…” I stumble over an attempt to respond, his inability to live up to my expectations throwing me off my game.

“What does she need this time?” he demands and the anger is back and I recognize my brother again.

“It’s not like that,” I say, even though technically it is exactly like that. It isn’t something he’ll ever get me to admit out loud.

“Oh, no?” he says, his words dripping with unwanted sarcasm. “So she didn’t call asking for something? She calls and you come running, right, Donnie? Isn’t that how it works?”

_That’s how it works with everyone._

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say, letting out forceful breathes through my nostrils.

“She’s using you. She always has. She knows you can’t say no and she’s taking advantage of you. You need to stop letting her,” he says, uncrossing his arms long enough to jab accusingly in my general direction.

There may be some truth to his words. There may be a lot of truth to his words. That doesn’t mean I will admit or listen to them. The condescending, accusing tone of his sharp, biting voice is enough to send my mind reeling for the most hurtful thing I could say in response. I wish I had a list at the ready for when he turned his anger on me. As it is I’m not sure there’s much in this world that I could say that would hurt Raphael. He doesn’t seem to put much stock in my opinion.

_So stop letting his affect you._

I ball my hand into a fist. I would tower over him if I was standing on equal ground, atop the counter he has to crane his neck up just to make eye contact.

“She’s my friend,” I say, closing my hand tighter to keep my arm from trembling. “She might not…she might not be what I want, but she’s my friend,” I say, turning around to pull open the grate once more. “If she needs my help I’m going to give it. I’m sorry if you think that makes me pathetic.”

“And you honestly think you can be just her friend?”

_No._

“Yes,” I say, lifting my staff into the air duct first.

He lets out another sigh and it makes my stomach squirm. “Fine, Donnie, but don’t expect the rest of us to keep putting you back together when she breaks you again.”

_They’ve all grown tired of you._

“I don’t expect anything from you, Raphael,” I say before hoisting myself into the air duct.

He doesn’t follow me and I can’t know if he runs off to tell the others I’ve left. I don’t care. I’m out of the heating system and dropping down into the sewer proper before I allow myself to let out the breath I’m holding. I can find my way to April’s apartment with my eyes closed. I know the distance to the exact measurement. I go to the surface as soon as there is a viable route. I don’t want to spend one more second below ground than I have to.

The October air is cold and it makes my muscles tense the moment I lift out of the manhole. I should have considered a coat. I swing my bo staff into its holster and climb up the nearest fire escape to travel unseen across the rooftops. I lower my head and run, leaping and sliding along the familiar path with an unshakeable urgency. _Run. Jump. Roll._ _Run_. The cold tends to make all of us just a little bit sluggish. I don’t let it on this night. The push and impact of the journey isn’t lost on my joints and muscles. I would never have thought such a short absence from training would take a noticeable toll. I don’t care. It feels good to be out of the lair and in to the real world, to breathe fresh air, to run.

I slide to a halt on the building next to April’s. Pausing to catch my breath and collect my thoughts. The cold wind whips the tails of my bandana horizontal and stings my eyes. The light is on in her bedroom, glowing out a warm welcome behind closed curtains. It’s a familiar sight from over the years. It’s the promise of a warm room in the darkness. It’s a safe place where, despite my own tendency to revert to nerves and anxious thoughts, I can be myself. Even if that self is nervous and rambling she won’t cut me down for it. I don’t have to sensor myself. I don’t have to worry about someone stopping me short of an explanation or correction of fact. I don’t have to hide my excitement over my latest project or an article I read. She’ll listen. Even if she doesn’t understand everything I say, she will listen. She’s my friend and I don’t want to ruin that. I can’t ruin that.

I take a few steps back before taking a running leap off the roof to land on the fire escape above her window. I grip the railing and swing down silently. I straighten my mask and roll my shoulders back in search of a more comfortable way for my bo staff to sit across my back. Raph’s words linger at the edge of my thoughts, threatening to push my fragile calm over a cliff lined with jagged rocks. I turn my back to her window for a moment and close my eyes.

_Get it together. Who cares what he thinks? It doesn’t matter. She asked you to come over tonight. She wants you to be here._

My eyes open wide at the sound of her window opening. I turn around and my hands instantly rise to fiddle with the strap across my chest. She’s leaning on the window frame with a bemused expression on her face. The moonlight catches sight of several of her freckles and it takes a great deal of personal control not to reach out to trace the light’s path with my thumb.

_Don’t be creepy._

“Oh, h-hi, April. Fancy meeting you here,” I say with a nervous chuckle.

“Hey, Donnie,” she says with a smile.

I mentally face palm myself. She doesn’t seem bothered by my lack of social skills and stands aside to let me in. I attempt to duck enough to let my staff clear the top of the window and have to angle sideways to avoid getting stuck half-way inside. She reaches out a steadying hand to the top of my arm and the muscle instantly tenses. Her hand is gone before I can focus too much on how nice it felt against my skin. She heaves the window shut with a grunt and blows away a stray strand of hair that fell across her eyes. Her hand is back on my arm and I’m sure I have the look of a cornered animal.

“You’re freezing,” she says with a disapproving click of her tongue. “How long were you out there?”

“Not long,” I insist, the heat of the apartment already warming my cold blood. “Just from the lair.”

“Well, you’re an ice cube,” she says, taking the folded afghan from the end of her bed.

She shakes it open and stands up on her tip-toes to drape it over my shoulders. It’s soft and warm and smells like April. I try not to focus on that and grip the edges with what I hope is an appreciative smile.

“Thanks,” I say, maneuvering to pull my bo staff out of its holster and lean it against the wall beside the window.

“Do you want some tea?” she offers, already on her way to the kitchen before I can properly respond.

“Sure,” I call after her.

I intend to follow her. It somehow feels wrong to linger in her bedroom on my own, like I’m trespassing on something private. A flash of sparkle catches my eye and stops me dead in my tracks. The dress hangs on her closet door, all purple and sparkles and lovely. I suppose, even with my sleepless nights aside I had myself just a little bit convinced that evening might not have happened. That she didn’t in fact go to the dance and wear that dress and look beautiful under the dim lights…with him. I trace my thumb over the fabric along the hem and instantly feel a swell of shame flood my entire being.

_Don’t touch that. What is your problem? Stop being creepy. What? Did you expect her to go with you? She’s human, she’s going to want to do normal, human things. Don’t make her feel bad about that. You’re being selfish._

I drop my hand and step back, turning away from the offending garment to sit on the end of April’s bed. It was a bad idea to come here. I’m not myself and she’s going to see it. The sadness and crushing shame at seeing the dress is nothing compared to the heavy feeling that settles on my chest when I lean back on my hand and my palm slides against a stack of glossy brochures. College brochures. Happy, smiling coeds from every walk of life grinning in sweatshirts emblazoned with the logos of their schools. I pick them up and flip through each with hands that threaten to tremble.

University of Illinois, Syracuse, William and Mary, Stanford. I sift through the pile and hope that the next one will break the undeniable pattern, each school is outside the city. The hallow feeling in my chest pushes outward and I close my hands into fists, crushing the happy, smiling coeds. The despair of losing April, of her leaving and never coming back is very real and it cannot be ignored or denied, but there is something deeper, something far more vile that grips my thoughts and makes me tighten my grip; jealousy.

I feel it like a kick in the stomach and it burns a hole through all logical thought and semblance of calm I might have mustered. She can go anywhere, do anything she wants, and she should. They all can; all those happy, smiling people with their lives ahead of them and every opportunity at their disposal. A bitter taste settles in my mouth and I push off the blanket, slamming the now crinkled brochures onto the mattress. They can study and learn and use real labs and equipment while I have to build things out of trash and steal anything close to scientific equipment.

“We only had green tea, Dad hasn’t been shopping since…” April says. She stops short of a full explanation and pauses in the doorway with a tray balanced in her arms. “What are you doing?” she asks, setting the tray on her desk and picking up the fallen blanket.

“I wasn’t going through your stuff,” I say, hoping that my frantic words were such a paranoid jumble she wouldn’t be able to understand them.

“I…didn’t think you were,” she says with a raise of her eyebrow.

_Real smooth._

She tosses the blanket over my shoulders again and hands me a cup of tea. He fingers graze across my wrist. “Keep that on until you warm up,” she insists, the firm line of her mouth and slight narrow of her eyes not inviting and argument.

She picks up the other tea cup and blows across the surface before taking a tentative sip. She sits on the edge of the bed. I think she is about to ask me to join her until her eyes fall on the pile of crumpled brochures. She picks up several of them and slides them through her fingers. She makes a face that I can’t quite decipher. “Dad keeps leaving these around the apartment,” she says, smoothing out one of the covers. “He’s not very subtle.”

“There…there are some good schools in there,” I say.

I wanted to sound supportive or at the very least indifferent. What comes out instead borders on sarcastic and bitter. Her eyes narrow further and she sets them aside.

“Are you going to tell me what’s bothering you?” she asks.

She sets her tea on the bedside table and crosses her arms expectantly.

_You’re going to leave and never come back and I’ll be stuck in the sewer forever like a freak._

“I…it’s nothing. I’m sorry. I just…I haven’t been sleeping very well,” I say, avoiding her eyes. It’s not entirely a lie. Of course it isn’t the entire truth either.

Her expression softens and she crosses the small distance between us. I instinctively take a tiny step back when she reaches out to take hold of the edge of the blanket around my shoulders. She rolls her eyes. It’s teasing, not mean spirited and I fell silly for recoiling. She pulls on the blanket and corrals me over to the bed. She pats the place beside her when she sits and looks up at me expectantly.

_Sit down, quite staring at her!_

I clear my throat and sit down next to her, painfully away how close our legs were without touching. She takes the teacup from my hands and sets it on the bedside table. Her hand lingers on my wrist again and it is a testament to my self-control that I don’t immediately turn my hand over and grasp her hand in mine. She does it for me. Her hand looks small and pale compared to my own and the comparison is enough to make the bitter thoughts return with stunning quickness.

_You don’t fit. You don’t fit with your brothers and you certainly don’t fit in her world. You can’t even hold her hand correctly._

She doesn’t seem to mind the incapability of our hands. She laces her fingers with mine as best as she can and runs her thumb along the ridge of mine. She leans in close and tucks her legs beneath her before leaning against me. We’ve hugged before. Usually, quick, friendly embraces in thank you or celebration. This is different. I know this is different, but I can’t let myself think that because there’s no way it can be. When she rests her head against my shoulder and slides her hand across my plastron I no longer have any idea what to think.

“It’s not fair is it?” she asks, pulling the afghan tighter over my shoulder so that it encompasses us both.

She smells like flowers and sunshine.

_Stop it, don’t think about that. Don’t think about how warm she is or how she keeps touching you._

“I…umm, well, it happens sometimes,” I stutter, not entirely sure what she’s talking about but prepared to agree with whatever she says if she keeps moving her fingers like that.

She cranes her neck up and settles confused eyes on me. “What are you talking about?”

I try to think of something cool to say. It isn’t my natural progression of thought and I’m left with very little to form into words. “What are you talking about?” I parrot back at her.

_How could she not fall for you? You’re positively dashing._

I bite my bottom lip to keep from telling the dark voices to shut up out loud.

“College,” she says, lowering her gaze to rest against the inside of my shoulder again. “You should be able to go, it isn’t fair.”

I tense immediately. This is not the conversation I want to have tonight. My plan was to come over, ignore the dark, swirling thoughts lingering at the back of my mind and help April with her math homework. Nice, safe, constant math. I didn’t plan on discussing my deep, dark thoughts about the future with the one person who actually has a future to look forward to. I would have made a flowchart, or a nice pros and cons list. I would have been prepared with a response. I am not prepared and I can’t find anything to say that won’t sound bitter or pathetic and so I stay silent. She doesn’t let the silence linger for too long and scoots just a little bit closer, her side pressing against mine.

“I’m sorry,” she says and the apology is sincere.

I tighten my hand around hers, instantly loosening my grip in fear that I might hurt her. “It’s all right,” I say, clearing my throat and forcing out more of a response. “Can’t change it. There…there’s no point dwelling on it.”

She pushes away and I feel a chill where her body no longer presses against mine. She paces the room, shaking her head, sending her pony tail whipping from one side to the other. She is riled up and I lean forward, careful to remain out of reach in case her anger turns on me. “No point?” she says, scuffing her slippers angrily along the carpet. “The point is, it isn’t fair. You’re a genius, Donnie. You could get in to any school you wanted if…”

“If I wasn’t a mutant, turtle, freak?”

_There ya go. Make her feel bad for sticking up for you. You’re on a roll._

I expect her to slump her shoulders and soften her face with pity. She does not do either of those things. Her hands ball into fists at her sides and she crosses the distance between us with two long strides. She narrows her eyes in anger and jabs her finger into my chest. “Don’t call yourself that,” she insists.

“A turtle?” I reply with a nervous smile.

This is not the time for jokes.

“You’re not funny,” she says, letting out an annoyed sigh that seems to take with it some of her anger.

She stands mere inches away from me and if I was brave enough to move my leg forward even a little bit the inside of my knee would touch the outside of hers. Maybe it was due to the face that I still haven’t entirely recovered from my sleepless bender or maybe it’s because I can’t shake the persistent chill in my blood without her beside me. Whatever the reason I find some semblance of bravery or stupidity lurking under the surface of my anxiety and reach out to take hold of her arm. Again, she seems so delicate and small in my hands.

“I’m sorry,” I say with a rueful smile. I pull her forward an inch and I can feel the warmth radiating off of her. “I just…I know…I don’t want to talk about it.”

_Why? Because if you don’t talk about it, it won’t be real?_

She nods and turns her hand over so she’s holding onto my forearm as well. “It just makes me so mad,” she says, barely breaking a whisper. “It isn’t fair.” She let’s go and slides out of my light grip, going over to her desk to snag her calculus book from her book bag.

_Oh, that’s right. She needs something from you_.

The awkward silence is too much for me to handle in the moment. So naturally I say the one thing that can make the entire situation even more awkward. “How was the dance?”

There’s that bitter, sarcastic clip in my voice again and I would suck the words back in if I could. She turns towards me, her math book held before her like a shield. She glances at the dress hanging from her closet door and then settles a look in my direction. I avoid it and pretend to suddenly find great interest in the pattern of the blanket strewn about my shoulders. She is standing in front of me before I can strategize my best response or if all else fails my best escape plan.

“It was all right, I guess,” she murmurs and sits back down on the bed.

This time she keeps a friendly distance between us and every part of me aches to close it.

_Don’t be creepy. If she wanted to sit closer she would have._

It’s not the response I expect and my curiosity gets the better of my common sense. “Just all right?” I ask, still tracing the patterns along the blanket.

“Yes, Donnie, just all right,” she says with a sigh and a flip of the math book’s cover. I must be staring because she adds. “Is that what’s been bothering you? Me going to the homecoming dance?”

_Run, just run. She’ll never be able to catch you. You’re going to regret staying here. Run!_

“I…well…no. I mean, technically, I was…you see the thing is…” I am a mess. My face burns with the heat of a blast furnace and my words keep sticking in an increasingly dry throat.

“Do you know why I went to the dance with Casey?” she asks, crossing her arms and raising one brow expectantly.

_Because girls like bad boys_.

I shake my head no and she plows on. “Because he asked me, Donnie. He asked me to go and I said yes, as friends.”

I don’t move. Maybe if I remain perfectly still she’ll forget I’m even here. As friends? She only went to the dance with him as friends.

_Like how she wants to study with you, as friends. Don’t read into it. Don’t get your hopes up. You know what happens when you get your hopes up._

I must have a rather stupid grin on my face because she unfolds her arms and rolls her eyes. I tense when she slides up alongside me again, holding her math book in her lap. “He’s not a very good dancer,” April says as an afterthought. “He did talk an awful lot about hockey…”

I nod and listen in silence as she talks about the rather uneventful evening and the mundane nature of it settles my nerves more than any twelve hour power nap ever could. It’s when she moves the topic of conversation to her mother that I feel guilt, cold and unrelenting start to creep up into my chest again. She would have gone dress shopping with her and they could have made a day of it at the spa. She tries not to sound too upset, but I know April and I know when her voice catches at the end of her sentences and her eyes glass over only when the light hits them she is far from all right.

_You’re selfish. All you could think of was yourself and here she is almost crying over her dead mother. You’re pathetic._

She closes the distance between us once more and I only put my arm around her when she snuggled beneath it in welcome. I hate watching her in pain. If there was anything I could do to take that away from her, to hold it even for a little while, I would. She doesn’t deserve that sadness.

“I don’t know much about mothers,” I say quietly when I fear she is very close to tears. “But I know yours would be proud of the wonderful, young woman you’ve become. You’re brave and smart and beautiful. What mother wouldn’t be proud of that?”

She lets out a small sniffle and I’m afraid I’ve said all the wrong things and only made matters worse.

_Nice going, Genius. You made her cry._

She sniffles again and straightens her back to look me in the eye. She isn’t crying and the crinkled lines of determination at the corners of her eyes almost make me pull back in surprise. Her face is suddenly very close and her warm hands are moving across my face to the back of my neck, pulling me forward. I think I can count her freckles at this point. Our lips touch and I’m not certain how it started. If she pulled me forward or if I leaned into the kiss? All I know is that her mouth is pressed to mind and it’s warm and soft and all that’s good in this world. The warmth of it spreads throughout my body and I let the blanket fall from my shoulders without a hint of worry about the chill in the air.


	4. Chapter Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Notes: PG-13 fluff throughout this chapter, but still with the angst :0)

Chapter Four

 

If I was a normal teenager this might have been an embarrassingly late development. As it is I feel like it was worth waiting for. I had theories that kissing was something wonderful I was missing out on and would never have the chance to experience. I’m glad I was wrong about some of that assumption. April kissed me, is kissing me and it’s strange and new and wonderful. It starts gentle and more than a little awkward until we settle into a slow rhythm and discover how we fit. I don’t know who opens their mouth first, but soon the kiss depends and our tongues touch and it’s like lightening sparks and warmth and I think I hear her let out a tiny moan.

I keep my hands above her shoulders, even as the itch to move lower is unrelenting. I want to touch every part of her and the inclination only increases when she leans into me further and tightens her grip on the back of her head. My blood rushes in my ears and in places much further downward. I slide one hand down to the arch of her back, half expecting her to pull away. Instead she drags the nails of one hand down the bridge of my shell and lifts a hand to the tie at the back of my head.

“W-wait,” I say, knowing what she intends to do.

“I want to see you,” she replies in a breathy voice that makes me kiss her again and tighten my grip on her waist.

She drags her nails down the bridge between my plastron and carapace and I shiver beneath the touch. She takes the moment of distraction to lift away my mask. I feel exposed and I follow the mask with my eyes until she wraps it around her wrist and lifts my chin up. She smiles and leans forward, pressing a feather-light kiss on the thin skin beneath my left eye. I blink and she takes hold of my face between her hands.

“There you are,” she says with a blush and a smile.

I don’t know how to respond to that, or to the way her eyes travel over every inch of my face as though she has never seen it before. She traces a thumb under my eyes and down towards my chin. Her eyes crinkle at the corner and I see something flash quickly across the blue iris like a bird past a window. It’s concern and it’s sadness. It was only there for a moment, but it was there just the same and it makes my stomach curl into a ball.

_She only kissed you because she feels sorry for you._

“Was that…all right?” she asks.

A blush burns bright across her face and makes her freckles stand out against her normally pale skin. She’s nervous. April doesn’t get nervous. She’s always so sure of herself, so confident. It makes me worry.

“Yes,” I say, finding the word a struggle. It must open a floodgate because soon I am rambling. “I mean, technically it was wonderful. I mean…well, yes, it was wonderful, but if you…if you don’t want. I mean, I understand if…” I trail off and let my hands slide from her back to pull nervously at the strap across my chest.

Her nervous smile breaks down into a small fit of equally nervous giggles and her blush burns across her face and down beneath the collar of her t-shirt. I find my eyes tracing the blush and my mind wondering where else it tints her skin.

_Don’t Stare!_

I clear my throat and consider taking my mask back. “W-was…I mean. If…was it all right for you? I know it was probably different…technically…”

_Stop talking. You’re ridiculous._

She doesn’t respond right away and I slowly ball my hand into a fist in case it decides to start shaking. I can feel a nervous tremble start in the tips of my toes and I shift slightly, making the bed creak and groan beneath my weight. Her hands are on my face again and I freeze. She crawls onto my lap. I take in a sharp breath and my mind clears of everything but her. The way she smells like wildflowers and sunshine and the sleepy flutter of her eyelashes as she leans in close and kisses me once more.

It’s different from the first kiss. Where that was sweet and tentative there is now a sense of urgency to the embrace. All pretense of nervousness disappears in the space of a breath and we cling to each other with roaming hands and frantic kisses. She breaks away just enough to lean her forehead against mine. Her chest rises and falls as she tries to catch her breath and I feel my face burn at the realization that my hands are resting dangerously close to parts of her that have been strictly off limits as friends.

“Wonderful,” she says and tilts her chin up to kiss my forehead. “You worry too much.”

_Story of my life._

I let one hand slide down to her elbow and lightly hold the joint in between my fingers. My curiosity is starting to get the better of my common sense and I feel myself beginning to speak before it is advisable to do so. I don’t really want to know the answer to the question I hear spilling out of my mouth. I don’t want to ruin the moment as I’m not entirely convinced there will ever be another one like it. I want to bask in the fact that I just kissed April. More than once and she is currently sitting in my lap.

“Why?”

It is one, tiny word but it brings the whole, perfect moment to a standstill. She stares at me for a moment with that infuriatingly blank expression on her face and my mind starts to churn with every worst case scenario that could transpire in the time it takes her to answer. She leans back, resting her weight on the tops of my thighs and settles her hands on my arms, toying with the edges of my elbow pad.

_She’s thinking of a way to let you down gently. It didn’t mean anything to her. It was just a kiss, she was probably curious. Don’t make it a big deal. Don’t scare her away. You’re going to lose her._

“Do you want the long answer or the short one?” she says, closing her hand around my mask which is still tightly held in her grip.

I swallow and only offer a shrug in reply.

She lets out an annoyed sigh. “Because,” she says and I realize how frustrating my own non-committal response must have been.

She looks up again and her eyes are all fire and determination and nervous, blushing April is a thing of the past. “Because it isn’t fair,” she says and her hands tighten into fists. “It isn’t fair that I had to go to my homecoming dance with someone as a friend and not who I wanted to go with. It isn’t fair that you can’t go to college and become a famous scientist,” she lets out another sigh that is far less stable and shakes around the edges. “It isn’t fair that I’ve…that I didn’t kiss you before, because I should have,” she crinkles her nose and punches me in the arm. “Or you should have kissed me.”

_Well, this certainly isn’t going as expected._

The shock of her words is even strong enough to subdue the dark and doubtful thoughts lingering on the edge of my mind. The weight of the last few days pushes down on my shoulders and I don’t know what to say. I never, in my wildest imagination would have thought there was the slightest possibly that April would want me to kiss her. That the thought had even crossed her mind. I wished it, I wanted it to the point where sometimes standing close to her was enough to cause a very painful and real ache in my chest. I wished it, but I never thought it would come true. I rarely get what I want.

“I didn’t…I didn’t think you wanted me to,” I say, turning my hand over to take hold of her wrist.

The anger and frustration in her eyes lightens and she rolls her teeth over her bottom lip, leaving it wet and glistening and enticing. “I…didn’t know what I wanted,” she says, crinkling her nose as though trying to turn her thoughts into words is a struggle. “You’re my best friend, Donnie. You’re the only…you’re the one I can always count on and I don’t want to lose that. I don’t want to ruin it.”

_She was going to say the only person she can count on. She doesn’t even know what to call you._

“You’re my best friend too,” I reply quietly.

I’m giving her a way out. We could forget this ever happened and just go on as we have been; as friends. I’ve fought mutants, ninjas and aliens and none of them scare me as much as this young woman and what she might say next. It shouldn’t scare me, she shouldn’t. It goes against all logic that I would expect her to ever choose me. She shouldn’t choose me. We don’t fit. I don’t fit in her world and it isn’t fair of me to drag her into mine. She deserves a life, a real life. A house in the suburbs, above ground, in the sunshine, with a job she loves and a family of her own. I can’t give her any of that and it isn’t right of me to want to take it from her for my own chance at happiness. How could I ever truly be happy if I knew I was keeping her from all of that?

_You’re selfish. Tell her it was just a fluke. That you haven’t slept. Grow a spine, Coward. Quit trying to drag her down with you._

“I miss you when you’re not around,” she says and there’s that small hitch in her voice that makes me instinctively wrap my arms around her and pull her close. When she hurts, I hurt.

“I’m sorry,” I say because I don’t know what else I can say.

Nothing I could say would be of any help. I miss her every second she’s not around me. I miss her laugh, I miss her intelligence, I even miss the way she teases me. She lets out a chuckle that is peppered with a sniffle. “You don’t have anything to apologize for,” she says, placing her hands on my plastron to push away.

She quickly wipes at her face, embarrassed and I avert my gaze to allow her time to compose herself. “When I was at the dance and Casey kept,” she doesn’t finish the sentence with words but a dramatic roll of her eyes and dismissive wave of her hand.

I feel my jaw tighten in anger as I have a fairly clear idea what Casey Jones kept trying to do.

“When I was there,” she continues and adds in another sigh. “Everyone else seemed…they seemed happy and I wasn’t. I wasn’t happy and I wasn’t having fun and it’s because I wanted to be there with you and I knew I couldn’t…and it isn’t fair.”

“I’m sorry,” I say again like the world’s most pathetic broken record. “I wish…I wish I could,” I start to ramble out a poor excuse for an explanation and instead trail off into a defeated sigh.

There is no point trying to change things that can’t be changed. I open and close my hands and curl my toes into the soft carpet beneath my feet. “I wish…I wish I could be…”

_Normal. Brave. Human._

“What you need,” I finish.

My throat threatens to close around each word and it takes all of my self-control not to dart for the window and never look back. Her hands are on my face again and she leans forward to kiss me lightly. I let her. I can’t not. My hands slide up her back when she opens her mouth to me and I kiss her like it will be the last time. I feel her tremble under my touch and she presses against me while pulling her mouth away with a sigh.

“You are,” she says around panting breathes and heavy-lidded eyes. “That’s my point, Dummy,” she cranes her neck up and kisses me between the eyes. “I’m the one who should be sorry, for taking so long to realize it.”

I should be ecstatic. I should take hold of her and swing her in elation and kiss her until there aren’t any kisses left in the world. I should smile and grin and make a fool of myself professing my love. I don’t do any of those things. Instead I panic. It starts as a slow, hallow feeling in my chest that grows in the space of two heart beats until my shoulders start to curl in and it feels as though the room itself is closing in on me.

“Do you really mean that?” I ask, my words frantic. “Because…because I don’t want you to feel like you have to say it and I don’t want you to…to regret it or resent me or…I don’t want you to feel trapped.”

_You ruin every good thing in your life._

She puts her hand over my mouth, stopping any further embarrassment on my part. Stern, confident April is back and she forces me to meet her gaze. “I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t mean it,” she insists. “Unless you’re calling me a liar?”

I shake my head, her hand still keeping me from voicing any more panic-riddled opinions. The stern look softens and I catch a glimpse of a blush starting across the ridge of her nose.

“I don’t know what this is. I’m not ready to…to call it something, but we can take it slow, all right? We’ll figure it out together, like we always do”

She’s right. Of course she’s right, she usually is. It’s just like any other experiment. We’ll work it out together. There isn’t anything we can’t figure out if we put our minds to it. I nod and she takes her hand away from my mouth. “

Maybe that’s enough kissing for tonight,” she says and adds with a blush that burns almost magenta. “If we keep doing that I’m not sure how slow things will move.”

“All right,” I croak out a response and she giggles while trying to disentangle herself from her perch on my legs.

I catch a glimpse of the clock and her calculus book that tumbled to the floor while we were otherwise occupied. “Sorry, I guess we didn’t get much studying done,” I say with a little smile, eager to lighten the mood. I lean over and pick up the book off the floor.

“S’all right,” she says. She holds her hair tie in her mouth while attempting to fix her ponytail which has squiggled loose. “Columbus Day.”

“What about it?” I ask, tracing my thumb around the edge of the book.

“Tomorrow,” she explains, smoothing out her hair. “It’s Columbus day, no school,” she says. A smile that borders a smirk flutters across her face and the hint of a blush returns to her cheeks. “Besides, I mostly said I needed your help just to get you over here.”

_Wait…what?_

“You…you planned this?” I ask. I can feel my eyes widen and I must have looked like a gaping fish.

She blushes and tucks a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “Well, no, not exactly,” she twists my mask between her hands and avoids my gaze. “I hadn’t heard from you in days and I thought…I thought you might be mad at me and…” she trails off and her blush deepens. “Dad is off at a conference in Philadelphia. I thought I’d be fine, but,” she lets out an embarrassed laugh. “I guess…I didn’t want to be alone.”

“I didn’t…I thought you’d be busy, with the dance at all. I didn’t want to bother you,” I say. I add quietly with a bit of a grin. “And you didn’t have to make up an excuse to get me over here. You could have just asked.”

She laughs and swats my shoulder. “I’m not the only one who hasn’t been entirely truthful,” she replies.

She runs a thumb along the edge of my eye but does not let her hand linger. “How long have you been awake for?”

_She knows that you’re not right._

“I slept,” I say quickly. My voice is more defensive than I’d like so I add. “It was just a couple days and I slept. I promise.”

She’s concerned. I can see it in the tightness at the corner of her mouth and the slight narrow of her eyes. I don’t want her to be. I don’t want her to worry about me or know about the dark thoughts. I never want her to look at me the way my family has the last few days. I can beat this thing. I slept. I’m stronger than this and I don’t need pity.

“It’s late,” she says, not pressing the matter and I love her a little bit more for it.

I nod. “Yes,” I say, shifting to my feet. “I should probably get back to the lair.”

She takes hold of my hand. I stop and look down at our entwined fingers.

“Stay.”

It’s a tiny word, only one syllable and said with barely enough power for me to hear it. I do hear it. I hear it like a shout and the nervous clench in my chest loosens and I let myself hope. I hope things can be better. I hope the world will change and we can be together without every logical thing that is keeping us apart. I hope none of that matters and I hope that she really does want me to stay and she isn’t asking out of fear or pity or any other less than sincere need for my company.

“If you have to go, I understand,” she says when I remain silent.

“I’ll stay.” I grip her hand tighter; her skin feels warm and soft beneath my calloused palm.

She pulls gently and I sit down again. The bed creaks under the added weight. Her hands move deftly to my elbows and she starts to remove the pads. I sit as still as a statue as she moves on to my knee pads and piles all of them neatly on the bedside table. She pauses at my belt and with shaking hands I undo the rest of my kit and set it aside. She pulls back the blankets on the bed and motions for me to lie down. I’m under the covers before I can be properly embarrassed that in a way April just undressed me. Her bed is soft and warm and lingers with her scent. She curls up alongside me and I take in a sharp breath when she rests her head on my plastron.She sighs and it sounds content. I’m afraid to move, afraid to breath, afraid that anything I do might ruin this perfect moment. She reaches back for my hand to drape my arm over her body and I relax only a little.

“Close your eyes,” she says around a tiny yawn.

“All right,” I say, even though I’m still staring down at her transfixed.

“They’re not closed,” she murmurs and there’s a knowing smile on her face. “Close your eyes. Go to sleep.”

I do as I am told this time. Letting my eyelids slide shut even though I would rather watch her all night. Her quiet breathing evens out and she lingers on the edge of sleep, her fingers tracing lazy circles on the edge of my plastron. I try to match my breathing to her’s and settle on the sound of the cold October wind howling outside the window. There aren’t any dark thoughts and I feel sleep pressing against the back of my eyes sooner than it has in ages. Even if this doesn’t last, even if this is just for tonight I’m not alone and she asked me to stay. She asked me to say. I couldn’t say no.


	5. Chapter Five: April

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: As promised this chapter is in April's POV. Her voice doesn't come as easily to me as Donatello so please be kind :0)  
> Donnie POV will be back in the next chapter with some brother time.

**Chapter Five**

**April**

 

It’s morning. At least I think it is. When I open my eyes the room is full of the soft gray light of autumn, when the sun is up but barely slips past the gray, cloud-cover. I curl my toes into the sheets wrapped around my feet and stop short of stretching my arms above my head when my sleep-addled brain remembers that I’m not alone. I’ve never shared a bed with someone before. Not in this way. It is slightly disorienting to wake up alongside someone else, like when you spend the night at a hotel or camping. Waking up, is the same, but the little things are off.

I’m curled up at his side and my head rests in the crook beneath his arm and the top of his plastron. His skin is cool to the touch, even with the blankets wrapped around us and my own body heat pressed against him. He snores softly with his head tilted back and the sight of the slight gap between his teeth makes me smile. I don’t want to wake him. He seems so peaceful, so far away from that haunted look that plagued his eyes and made his shoulders slump the night before. Guilt squiggles and slides around in my stomach. That look was my doing, maybe not entirely, but I had a part in it and it makes me feel sick inside.

I slip out from under his arm and roll away, careful to keep from disturbing him. I tuck the blankets back up around his shoulders and he lets out a sleepy yawn. I think he might wake, but instead he rolls over onto his side and pulls the blankets with him. I feel a smile tug at the corner of my mouth and can’t help but wonder what it would be like to always wake with him at my side. I’m getting ahead of myself and the silly girl thoughts make my face burn with an unstoppable blush. It’s embarrassing even without anyone else around to see it. I have ninja training from a grand master. I should have better control over my own emotions.

I tiptoe across the room, glad the bedroom door is already ajar. I slide through the narrow opening and walk quietly to the kitchen. Donnie will want coffee when he wakes and it’s the least I can do. The sky outside the kitchen window is gray and foreboding, threatening rain with each passing second. It’s the perfect kind of day to stay inside and curl up on the couch with snacks and a bad movie. I have never wanted to do something more in my life. I hum quietly and fill the reservoir, leaning forward to watch it start to percolate and drip into the pot below. I wonder if I should attempt to make breakfast.

“Well, isn’t that sweet. Making breakfast in bed?”

The sudden, sarcastic voice makes me jump. I at least have the wherewithal not to screech like a frightened barn owl. My hand instinctively goes to my back where I normally keep my tessen. I come back with nothing from the waistband of my striped pajama pants. At least this time I don’t really need it. Raphael is sitting in the window seat across the living room. An infuriating, smug smile is on his face and I wish I did have my tessen. I shoot him a glare instead and hurry down the hallway to make sure he didn’t wake up Donatello. I peek inside, happy to see him still curled up in a ball and sleeping. I close the door as quietly as I am able and stalk back to the living room intent on giving his brother a piece of my mind.

“So you’re adding breaking and entering your friend’s homes to your list of talents?” I hiss.

I inspect the window behind him to make sure he didn’t kick it open to gain entry. Raph isn’t always the most gentle.

“Is that what we are, April? Friends?” he asks and I notice for the first time that he has a sai loose from its holster and is twirling the tip against the pad of one of his fingers. I take a step back.

“Yes,” I say, unable to hide my surprise.

Raphael and I might not be the closest out of his brothers, but I never doubted that we were friends and I never expected he doubted it either.

“Do we have a problem?” I ask, putting a hand on my hip.

Per usual my anger outweighs any other emotion I might consider. He slides the weapon back into his belt and rises from the window seat with a lazy slide of his body.

“I don’t know, do we?” he asks and the smug expression is back and I ball my hand in a fist to keep from slapping it off his face. “If you have something to say, Raph…”

“Where’s my brother?” he asks, not waiting for me to finish and the interruption only fans the flames of my growing anger.

“He’s sleeping,” I say with a sneer. “So keep your voice down. He needs to rest.”

Anger is always lingering just beneath the surface of Raphael, peering around his eyes and resting in the tensed muscles in his shoulders. Anything can set him off and apparently today I am that anything. He curls back his lip and rests his hands on the hilts of his weapons. I hope it’s just a reflex and he doesn’t actually intend to stab me.

“Oh, so now you’re concerned?” he asks with a laugh that is so bitter it even leaves a bad taste in my mouth. “You string him along for years, only call on him when you need something and now, suddenly you’re concerned?”

The accusations hit close to home and even if they have a ring of truth to them I will not let Raphael see that he’s unnerved me.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say with a hiss between clenched teeth. “It’s none of your business…”

“He’s my brother,” he interrupts me again and I’m one step closer to punching him in the face. “Of course it’s my business.”

I tighten my hand into a fist, noticing that Donatello’s mask is still wrapped around my wrist. Raphael sees it too and a smirk settles on my face when I see the discomfort it causes him. It’s petty and childish, but he has ruined my idea for a perfect afternoon and I have little pity or concern for his feelings in the moment. “Well, he’s my…”

“He’s your what, April?” he snaps, interrupting me for a third time.

“What exactly is he to you?”

The question hits me like a slap and I sway, suddenly unsteady on my feet. If he hadn’t interrupted me I don’t know what I would have said, or what I can say now. Donatello is my friend, my best friend, maybe something more, maybe something much more. I don’t know and I don’t want to have this conversation with Raphael. It isn’t meant for him. It’s private and it belongs to Donnie and I and I don’t like it being dragged out into the gray light of day. He takes my silence for a win and leans forward with narrowed eyes and tensed shoulders; ready to pounce.

“Do you even know what he put himself through the last couple days?” he asks. “What he keeps putting himself through?”

“He hasn’t been sleeping,” I say, desperate to prove Raphael wrong and to stop the growing guilt in my chest from appearing all over my face.

Raph lets out a snort from the back of his throat and the sound of it makes me cringe. “For over three days, April. He didn’t sleep for over three days. He locked himself up in his lab and didn’t sleep for three days,” he says and the shift from anger to concern on his face fills me with dread. “You string him along and use him and then you think, what? A little sleep over and coffee will make everything better? You don’t know the first thing about him because the only thing you care about is what you can use him for.”

I slap him. The sound echoes up to the high ceilings and settles heavy on the silence that follows. I half expect him to hit me back. I’ve seen him throw fits over far less. My whole body is trembling and I have to ball my hand into a fist to keep from hitting him again. I would never win against Raphael if he fought back, but that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t go down without a fight.

“You have no right,” I say. The words come out as a growl and I barely recognize my own voice. I’m on the verge of losing control and I hate it. “You have no right. He is my friend…my best friend and what happens between us is none of your business.”

“He loves you,” he says, not even acknowledging that I struck him.

I feel cold and empty and wish with every part of me that I was back in bed under the covers and curled up alongside Donnie. “You don’t get to say that,” I insist and the threat of tears is very real and imminent. I will not cry in front of Raphael, I will not give him the satisfaction. “You don’t get to say that. You can’t take that from us, you don’t…that’s not yours to say…” I turn away and struggle to take in a breath.

I hope for one that will steady me, but at this point any oxygen will be a help. The trembling in my limbs will not subside and it only adds to my shame and guilt cocktail that wreaks havoc on my ability to stay calm. I will not cry in front of Raphael. I will not. I flinch when his hand settles on my shoulder and curse his ninja stealth skills. I try to pull free but he tightens his grip.

“I have to look out for him,” he says and the words are so filled with empathy I look to make sure it is still Raphael standing behind me. “He has dark turns sometimes,” he adds, not bringing attention to how my eyes water. “He always has and we have to watch out for him until things sort out. He’s my brother and I’m not going to sit back and let someone hurt him.”

The tears leave my eyes and I meet his gaze with determination. I won’t be bullied and I won’t let his current idea of my intentions stand. It is not all right that anyone, especially one of the brothers thinks that I would ever hurt Donatello. That I would use him and cast him aside whenever something better shows up.

“I would never hurt him,” I say. My confidence returns and my limbs stop trembling. “And maybe he has dark turns, but he’s stronger than that. He’s stronger than you give him credit for,” I say and shake free from his grip on my shoulder. “And you’re not the only one looking out for him. Not anymore.”

He stares at me with slightly rounded eyes and a flat expression. Raphael struck speechless is a thing of pure beauty. There are no smart remarks, no sarcastic or biting quips. He stands and stares and I can see the struggle to form a comeback fight across his eyes.

“Raphael? What are you doing here?”

The sleepy question from the doorway makes me turn. Donatello stands on the edge of the room, looking between his brother and I with concern. He has put on his belt and pads, but still looks oddly undressed without his mask. Raph has lost the deer in the headlights look and settles back on annoyed, verging on angry.

“What am I doing here?” he asks with a jab of his finger in his brother’s direction. “What are you doing here? You didn’t come home last night. You wouldn’t answer your T-Phone. We all thought something horrible happened. Mikey is out of his mind, even Master Splinter is out looking for you.”

Donnie’s shoulders slump and shame practically radiates off him. “I…I’m sorry. I didn’t have my phone on. You knew I was here. Why didn’t you just tell them?”

“We have to go back to the lair,” Raph says, ignoring Donnie’s question. “Come on.”

I watch Donnie nod and reach his hands up to take hold of the strap across his chest. It’s something he does when he’s nervous and I’ve seen it a hundred times. I don’t want him to be nervous or feel ashamed about staying the night. He is always thinking of others before himself and I won’t stand by and let Raphael make him feel guilty. I walk over to him and take hold of his face between my hands. His eyes widen and I’m afraid he is about to say something to stop me so I silence him with a kiss that could never be confused for the embrace of just a friend. When I pull away he’s grinning and the green of his face is dark with a blush.

“You can’t go without your mask,” I say. I stand on my tip toes and he leans down so I can tie it around his head. “Everything will be all right,” I whisper, taking hold of his hand to keep him from moving.

He nods and gives my hand a squeeze. I don’t know if it’s a lie. I don’t know if it’s a promise I can keep, but it seems enough for now and happiness settles on his face. It’s my favorite look on him. He leans down and kisses me. It’s gentle and warm and very much him. He does it despite his brother glowering in the background and it makes me think that we might be able to make this work. Despite everything stacked against us. If we work together there isn’t anything we can’t figure out. Why would this be any different?


	6. Chapter Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: Back to Donnie POV and a little lighter on the angst. Well, sort of :0)

Chapter Six

 

We don't speak as we climb out onto the fire escape and start the journey back to the lair. He lets me lead the way, maybe because he thinks I'll sneak off if I were out of his line of sight. As it is, I can feel his eyes burrowing into the back of my head with every leap and dash across the rooftops. I don't care. It doesn't matter. I'm sure I'll have plenty to answer to when we get home, but it doesn't matter. I can't stop grinning. The cold morning air that would normally slow me down only invigorates me. I run and leap from roof top to roof top, only slowing down when I realize Raphael is struggling to keep up. She kissed you in front of him. She kissed you and didn't care that someone was watching. My grin widens at the thought of April's lips and other parts of her. Raph lets out a huff as he lands on the roof beside me and I try to adapt a more contrite expression. It isn't easy and judging by his glare it isn't working.

"You seem pretty pleased with yourself," he mutters, pausing to arch his back and rub some feeling into his bare arms.

They're the first words he's said to me since leaving April's apartment and they're not quite as harmful as I expect; sarcastic and unhelpful, but not technically harmful. We're halfway back to the lair and even with the rising sun the temperature is clinging stubbornly to the cold of the night. I can see my breath on the air and try to narrow down the list of possible responses in my mind. I can't remember a time in recent memory where I was this well rested and my mind is working in over time. I drum my fingers along the edge of the heating vent beside me, eager to work on something, to build something, or to use my hands for something less…wholesome. The thought makes my grin return.

"So what if I am?" I reply with a shrug.

I pull my staff from its holster and twirl it between my fingers. I love the hallow sound it makes as it passes through the air. It's familiar and comforting and a muscle memory that stretches back a decade. Raph paces the ledge of the building, looking down at the waking city below. He doesn't respond and my calm starts to falter.

_Why isn't he yelling at you? Why isn't he telling you how stupid you are for liking April? How you're just getting your hopes up. How she's going to hurt you._

I stop moving the bo and lean against it to watch him. "Why didn't you tell everyone I was at April's?" I ask, not certain I want to hear the answer.

He shrugs and punches and kicks at an invisible foe. He sighs when I refuse to look away and let him off the hook. "I thought you'd be back before anyone noticed," he mutters, punching with increased venom. "You made it pretty clear you don't need my opinion or my help."

My grin is gone and that all too-familiar pang of guilt starts to wind its way up from my toes. "Then…then why did you come to April's this morning?"

He leaps down from the ledge and stalks over. I put a foot back to widen my stance in case he intends to hit me. I might have approximately a foot of height over my brother but he packs a punch and I don't look forward to be on the receiving end of it. He does strike me. With both hands he pushes my shoulders. His heart is not in it and it barely causes me to sway.

"Because you wouldn't answer your phone, you idiot," he says, pushing me again. "Because you…you've been…you know how you've been and I thought something bad happened! I thought you were hurt or…or worse," he pushes me again and this time I stumble.

I don't know what to say. I didn't think my words from before would have any effect on my brother. I raise one hand to the strap across my chest and cling to it. He stops short of pushing me again and I think he might punch me instead so I flinch when he turns towards me. Hurt flashes in his eyes and he takes a step back. I stare at him and struggle to find anything to say that won't make this worse. He closes the gap between us and before I can put up my hands to defend myself he wraps me in a hug that makes my bones creak.

"Don't ever…don't ever," he says and his voice catches in his throat.

He pushes me away and runs his arm under his nose. He rolls his shoulders and tries to play off the sniffle as a result of the cold, morning air.

_See what happens when you're selfish? You hurt people._

"I…I'm sorry," I say, feeling panic start to settle in my chest.

He didn't think I was going to get hurt, he thought I was going to hurt myself and that realization makes any lingering warmth or happiness I held onto from the night before melt away leaving me hallow and cold.

_They all must think that. They think there's something wrong with you._

"I should have checked in," I say. The need to defend myself fills the empty space in my chest and I can't let his unspoken fear linger between us. "I know I…sometimes I get a bit, obsessive and…and I forget to sleep and I might not…sometimes I mean, technically it's probably anxiety but I wouldn't…I've never. I'm not going to hurt myself, Raph."

He rolls his shoulders and moves his head from side to side, instantly uncomfortable. "Yeah…I know," he says with another sniff and a crack of his knuckles. He is less than convincing.

I'm not sure how I should feel, but I settle on anger and it warms my blood and makes me far more brazen than I normally would be with my volatile brother. "No, no you don't," I say, rising to my full height. "You thought I was going to hurt myself," I insist. I won't let him pull away from my gaze and this time I'm the one pushing him. "You think I'm weak. You always have."

"Now, wait a minute…" he starts to defend himself, but I charge on.

"No, you listen to me for once," I say with a heavy shake of my head and more than a little manic pace to my words. "You think I'm weak, that I'm wrong, you all do, but I'm not. I might not be as good a fighter, but that doesn't mean I can't take care of myself. That doesn't mean I can't make my own decisions and that doesn't mean you get to push me around and say horrible things about April because you think I don't know any better," he doesn't say anything so I plow forward. "Do you honestly think I don't know that it probably won't work out? I know, Raphael. I know we're different, that I'm different, that she'll grow up and leave, that I can't expect her to…to be attracted to a freak. I know that, but you're my brother. You're supposed to take my side."

He lets me finish my rant. Patience isn't usually one of his virtues and I'm certain I'm in for a heck of a fight. Instead he wraps me in another hug and I'm left standing dumbfounded with my arms hanging lank at my sides.

"I don't think you're weak," he says and the sincerity behind his words takes me by surprise. "None of us do and I am on your side, Don. That's why I said those things about April. Cause I'm on your side and I don't want to see you get hurt," he pushes me away again with a punch to my shoulder, trying to hide any real emotion behind a slightly lecherous snigger. "And from where I was standing it didn't seem like she had any problem being attracted to ya."

My face burns red in an instant and I find a new found interest in my hands to avoid the growing smirk on my brother's face. "I well, I mean, that's not precisely, I mean…"

He laughs again and throws an arm around my shoulders, making me lean forward to his height. "What do you think Splinter'll say about you sleeping in her bed?"

"You…you wouldn't?" I say and I must look terrified because he laughs again and releases my shoulders. "How about we keep the whole thing between the two of us and we'll just say you owe me?" he suggests and I nod quickly in agreement.

I'm not entirely sure that things are whole between us. I don't know if I believe what he said, but I appreciate that he said it.

"Dudes!"

Mikey's voice echoes out across the early morning air like a siren and I can assume Leonardo is hissing at him to be quiet. I only catch a quick glance of my two brothers leaping across the rooftops before they drop down beside Raph and I. Mikey grabs hold of my shoulders with a grip that makes me wince and will probably leave a bruise. His eyes are wide and frantic and guilt rears its ugly head again because it's my fault that look is on his face.

"Are you ok? Are you hurt?" he asks, still trying to catch his breath from his run across the rooftops.

"Yes, I'm all right, Mikey," I say quickly. "I'm all right."

I don't register that he hit me until my head snaps back and the sudden burst of pain travels from my jaw to settle on the side of my head.

_You deserved that._

I taste blood, hot and metallic in my mouth, but I'm stopped short of spitting on the ground when Michelangelo wraps me in a hug that doesn't seem to be ending any time soon.

"Answer your damn phone," he says, holding on tighter. "We thought you were dead in a gutter somewhere, man. If you wanted to go outside I would of come with, ya. Don't take off on your own like that."

"I know, I'm sorry. I'll never do it again, I promise," I say, trying to find a way to squiggle free from his crushing hug. "Kinda need to breathe, Mikey."

He lets go but stays put at my side, shooting me side long glances of mistrust. I'll make it up to him somehow.

"Where were you?" Leonardo asks. He's keeping his distance, perched on the edge of the roof, eyes narrowed beneath his mask.

It's his disappointed look and I shrink under the weight of it. He did learn it from Master Splinter after all. I guess I could tell him the truth. I suppose I owe him that. I can leave out crucial details of course. Those details are, for the moment, on a need to know basis and Leo doesn't need to know.

"It doesn't matter, Leo," Raph says before I have a chance to speak.

I slowly roll my head to stare at him, shocked.

"He's not hurt. It was all just a bad night. Let's go back to the lair and forget about it. He's sorry and it won't happen again. Right, Donnie?"

I nod, too stunned to form anything close to words. Leo isn't going to back down that easily. He has turned his disappointed look in Raphael's direction. Honestly, I don't know why he bothers. It has never worked on our brother in the past I don't know why he thinks it will this morning. Raphael rolls his shoulders back and offers a glare of confrontation in response.

_Great. They don't need help starting a fight and you're just egging them on._

"You got a problem with that, Leo?" he asks.

Leonardo hops down from his perch. He only takes a few steps forward, but it's enough for Raph to square his shoulders and widen his stance in preparation for a fight. "I'd like to know why you feel the need to lie for him," he says, pointing at me. "You lied last night when you said he was in his room and you lied this morning when you said you didn't know where he was. You knew the whole time and I'd like to know why you thought it had to be kept a secret," he says, before he turns his stare on me. "Where were you Donatello?"

_Raphael lied…for me._

The novelty of that isn't lost on me and I think I owe him an apology later. It is almost impossible to keep anything a secret in the lair, to have anything that is my own. Regardless of what Raph's motives might have been, his lying for me led to what happened last night. None of that would have transpired if he ratted me out and my brothers followed me to April's and dragged me back to the lair.

"He was at April's, ya idiot. Where else would he be?" Raph says with a roll of his eyes and an annoyed sigh.

_So much for our little secret. Judas._

"All night?" Mikey asks. His eyes widen in assumed realization and a low chuckle starts in his chest and rolls out over the rooftop into a fit of giggles. "Dude, you slept over at April's?"

A blush, terrible and unrelenting burns across my face and their teasing smirks and knowing chuckles make my hands shake. "It's not…not like that," I say. I stumble over the words and sound everything but convincing. "Nothing happened. We just slept."

"You slept with April?" Mikey says around another fit of giggles.

"Not like that," I say again, scowling because I'm uncomfortable and he knew what I meant and is just giving me a hard time for the fun of it.

_You deserve it anyway._

"We should get back to the lair," Leo says, never one to feel safe out in the open during daylight hours.

I'm just grateful he isn't glaring and accusing anymore. There is a ghost of smile on his face and even as he tries to be the somber and mature leader he can't help but get his dig in as well.

"Did you at least sleep on the floor?"

My wide eyes and renewed blush is enough to set off another round of teasing laughter and smirks. Mikey throws his arm around my shoulders. He apparently has already forgotten his anger with me and his freckles crinkle together when he grins.

"You sly, dog," he chuckles with a wiggle of his eye ridges. "You'll have to fill me in on the details," he whispers when Leo gives a signal to move out.

That's not a conversation I am ready to have and honestly I don't think Mikey is either. I take off after Leo, grateful for the distraction of movement. We run and leap together, taking extra care to keep out of sight now that the city is awake and people move around only a few floors below our feet. Mikey and Raphael follow behind me and as we move it's almost as if the last few days never happened, like it was all some weird, horrible dream with a surprise happy ending.

_Run. Jump. Roll. Run._

In the brisk morning air with my muscles working and the cold moving in and out of my lungs I allow myself a moment to be happy. I can feel a smile start to grow across my face and I don't even mind how it makes my jaw hurt where Mikey hit me. My mind wanders back to April's warm bedroom and her mouth and her…everything else. She kissed me. She asked me to stay and she didn't hide what happened from Raphael. Maybe things could work out. Maybe everything will be all right. My brothers can tease me all they like and I'm certain they will. They can't take last night away from me. Nobody can take that.

We drop down into an alleyway. I keep a look out while Mikey pries open the manhole cover. He disappears into the darkness with Raphael following close behind. I step to the edge and Leo puts a hand on my arm to stop me. I suppose I should have known it wouldn't have been this easy. That he would let me off the hook with just some teasing. Leo loves a lecture and I'm sure I'm in for a doozey.

"Are you all right?" he asks and any hint of a smile he might have worn before is gone and barely a memory.

I nod. "Yes," I say quietly and I mean it. "I really am sorry. I didn't want to make you guys worry. You don't have to. I'm all right."

"You know Sensei is going to have questions," he says.

I lose some of my calm. If talking to Mikey about what happened is an unappealing proposition talking to Master Splinter about it makes me feel sick inside. I nod and bite my lower lip. Leo gives a knowing nod.

"I'm not telling you to lie to him," he says, keeping his voice quiet so our brothers down in the sewer don't overhear. "But, he probably doesn't need to know all the details."

"Y-yeah," I reply with a jerky nod. "Thanks, Leo."

His smile returns and I feel like I just walked into a trap. "Of course you're not a very good liar so he'll probably get it out of you," he says before jumping down into the sewer. He's right you know. I let out a sigh that is half way to a groan and slip into the sewer after my brothers, dreading the conversation that awaits me when we reach the lair.


	7. Chapter Seven

 

Chapter Seven

 

He's making me wait. I suppose it is to be expected. He didn't twitch so much as a whisker when he saw the four of us pass through the turnstile. He was standing still as a statue with a hand resting on the back of the couch. One of my brothers must have alerted him to our imminent return. He glides over and stands before me. It feels like an eternity before he speaks and once he does his words aren't angry or glad or anything really. His voice is flat and devoid of any discernible emotion.

"The dojo," he says before turning and moving off down the hallway.

"Dude," Michelangelo breathes beside me. "You're dead, man," he whispers and he sounds like he believes it.

After an hour ticks by and I'm still kneeling alone in the dojo I start to believe it too.

_Maybe he's seeing how long you can last and then when you try to leave he'll pounce._

I glance over my shoulder and then up into the branches of the tree, thinking he might be hiding in the shadows. Even if he is hiding I doubt I will be able to find him. After fifteen more minutes my knees start to ache and I shift uncomfortably from one to the other before settling back and accepting the discomfort. I drum my fingers on the tops of my thighs and start to hum a song I can't quite remember the name of, trailing off with an annoyed sigh when the ache in my knee travels up to my hip. What could he possibly gain from making me wait here?

_He's trying to force you to meditate._

I crinkle my nose and stretch out my legs in front of me. I lean back on my hands and move my feet back and forth. He can make me wait all he wants, but he can't force me to meditate. As a half an hour comes and goes I start to get antsy. I curl my fingers against the mat beneath them and drill my heels into the ground.

_There has to be some paper and something to write with in here. If he's going to make you sit around you might as well do something._

I crane my neck and look around the dojo. My search comes up with nothing and I let out a sigh of frustration. I lay back and stare up at the ceiling, squinting into the light that filters through the branches. I wish he would get it over with. I know he's trying to teach me some sort of lesson here. He's always trying to teach us a lesson, but I'm entirely not in the mood for it. My thoughts start to turn towards frustration and I quickly force them back to more pleasant things or more accurately a more pleasant someone. A tiny smile crosses my face and I let my eyes drift shut as I start to hum again.

"Oh, I am sorry. Am I interrupting something?"

Master Splinter's voice is like a bucket of cold water…full of angry bees…and barbed wire. I flail and struggle to kneel once more. He stands and waits. There are no annoyed nose twitches or swishes of his tail, he just stands and waits and it fills me with dread. I settle on my knees and stare down at the mat, afraid to look him in the eye. I tense, thinking he might put a hand on my shoulder. He doesn't. He doesn't do anything but stand and stare me down.

_You're going to crack. You're an easy mark and he knows it._

"Sensei…"

"Did I say you could speak?" he asks in that same emotionless tone that turns my blood to ice water.

I shake my head no and continue my examination of the mat beneath my knees. I don't know how long we stay like that. I try to count the seconds to no avail and soon my knees are aching again and the pang travels up to my hip and lower back. Master Splinter reaches down and tilts my chin up. I wince when his hand brushes the fresh bruise across my jaw. He lets go and kneels down beside me. He stares straight ahead and I don't know what to do.

_Don't move. Probably shouldn't breathe either._

"Were you in a fight?" he asks.

I shake my head no, too afraid to elaborate with words.

_Just sit quietly. He'll say what he has to say and then you can slink off and hide._

"What happened to your face?" he demands.

"Michelangelo," I croak around a pained swallow.

"Hmm," is his only response and the crushing silence falls once more.

I start to squirm after another hour crawls by. The pain in my joints is an afterthought to the swell of anxiety that threatens to crush my chest from the inside out. I mentally catalog every possible horrible thing that could be going through Sensei's head. Soon my hands will start to tremble and I ball them into fists to keep that from happening. Don't think about the pain. Don't think about how disappointed in you he is. Think of something nice. Think of something positive. Think of April.

_Why won't he say something?!_

"Be still," he says, resting a hand briefly atop my own.

Before I can stop myself I let out an annoyed sigh. My eyes shoot open wide and I mentally scold myself for my stupidity. Master Splinter rests his hands in his lap and takes in a slow breath through his nose.

_What is wrong with you?_

"Have you apologized to your brothers?" he asks with another slow exhale.

"Hai Sensei," I reply immediately. I dip to one side and wince when the added weight falls on my right knee.

"Be still," he says again and I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from letting out a frustrated sigh.

He lets another long bout of silence pass and the ache in my lower back has upgraded to pain, good and proper. I'm going to move again. It's only a matter of seconds before it becomes a necessity. My muscles cramp and the pain in my knees feels as though someone is trying to pull the joints out through the skin. Master Splinter lets out a slow and forceful breath and I use the moment to shift, hoping he is too preoccupied with his breathing to notice.

_Sensei notices everything._

"Be still," he says for the third time.

My anxiety turns into an ugly sort of anger at the sound of the command. I scrunch my face into a scowl and wince when the movement stretches the bruise across my jaw. I let out a short breath and it whistles through the gap in my teeth. Master Splinter opens one eye but otherwise remains stoic. I shift once more and cringe at the pain in my hips. I don't care if he rebukes me again. I have to move.

"Tell me, my son," he says, both eyes open now and settled on my face. "Why do you think you are incapable of stillness?"

The question cuts and I take in a breath that waivers around the edges.

_Why can't you be more like Leonardo? That is what he meant to ask._

"I…I have things to do," I say, which is obviously not the answer he was searching for because his nose twitches.

"And did you have 'things to do,' last night?"

I wince at the question and only answer with a quick shake of my head. I fear what I might say if I open my mouth. His chest rises and falls and he lowers his head to one side.

"I had asked one thing of you, Donatello. To rest. To be still. What was so important that you felt the need to sneak away in the night without a word to anyone?"

_Raphael knew. I told Raphael._

I cannot throw my brother under the bus, not after he kept my secret. I swallow and try to find a plausible lie amongst my manic thoughts. Nothing comes and I shift on my knees with a wince and grimace.

"I…I'm sorry, Sensei," I say quietly when nothing else is able to pass my lips.

"I did not ask for an apology," he replies and my spirit breaks just a little bit more.

"I…I had to…I had to not be here," I murmur.

It isn't a lie and the weight of my voice alone attests to the truth behind my shame.

"I couldn't…I couldn't be here," I say and my voice breaks.

_Are you going to cry? Pathetic._

I take in a deep breath and hope it settles my nerves and the embarrassing tremble to my voice. "I couldn't…I couldn't stay here."

I regret saying it. It didn't need to be said. I could have gone on as I always do and bury it deep down until the next time it could no longer be kept hidden away. He doesn't move. His chest rises and falls but he stays still. I am that child again, waking from a bad dream and wishing my father would comfort me and tell me everything is all right and knowing he won't.

_You're not a child. He shouldn't have to comfort you. Grow up._

"I'm sorry," I say again. This time the apology is more like a plea and I hate myself for it. "There is no excuse. I should have done as I was told."

I hope it is what he wants to hear. That he'll nod and let me flee. I don't usually get what I hope for.

"Where did you go?"

I blink and my shame is washed away in a tsunami of embarrassment. My face burns and I avoid his eyes at all cost as though one look might turn me to stone. He is not in the mood for waiting.

"Donatello?"

"I was at April's," I reply so quickly the words blend together in one monstrosity of a single breath.

"I see," he says and I cringe at the implications in those two words. "And were you invited?"

_He thinks you're a stalker. He can't even consider that she wanted you there.  
_

"She asked me to come over," I say, probably harsher than was reasonable or necessary. "She needed help with her calculus homework."

"For the entire night?"

Further excuses die on my lips and I'm certain my face is as deep a purple as my mask. There is a nose twitch and Master Splinter shifts on his knees.

"And Mr. O'Neil, he was…aware of your staying the night?" he asks and I'm shocked to find that he almost sounds as uncomfortable as I feel.

"No," I reply before I have the common sense to lie. "He…he wasn't home." I add in a rush of cracked words. "I slept on the floor."

If the ground opened up and swallowed me in this moment to save me further embarrassment I would never again doubt the existence of a god. As it is I remain stuck kneeling on joints that still scream in pain under the unwavering eye of Master Splinter. He seems at a loss for words and I doubt I could hear them anyway over the loud thud of my own heart in my ears.

"It…it is unacceptable for you to spend the night," he says, clearing his throat.

"Hai, Sensei," I reply with a curt nod.

"Especially without Kirby knowing."

"Hai, Sensei."

"You have his permission to consider and April's honor."

"Hai, Sensei," I say.

_Is it possible to die of embarrassment?_

"You have many things to consider," he says as he rises to his feet and begins to pace in front of me. "When a young lady…"

_Oh, no. No, this cannot happen. This will not happen._

"Hai, Sensei, I understand," I say quickly, hoping to stop him before he says anything else that will only embarrass us both. "It won't happen again. It is unacceptable, I understand. It won't happen again."

He looks as though he might be considering his line of thought, but thankfully nods instead. "Good," he says. He pauses to rest a hand on my shoulder. "I am glad you are safe, my son," he says with a squeeze of his hand. "Do not think you cannot come to me for guidance in the future."

"Yes, father," I say, letting out the nervous breath I'm holding.

I wait until I'm certain he has left the dojo before I roll to my side and slowly stretch out my legs. It's not a flattering movement and I'm glad no one is around to witness it. My joints wail in protest and I take my staff from its holster to help me to my feet. I hobble around the dojo until the blood returns to my feet and the pain in my back and legs dulls to an ache. I would not want to witness Sensei interrogate someone for real.

"Hey, Donnie?"

I look over and see Mikey linger at the door to the dojo.

"Yeah, Mikey?" I say, hobbling over towards him. Each step is easier than the one before and by the time I reach my brother I'm almost walking normally.

"Just making sure Sensei didn't kill ya," he says with a quiet laugh that dies when his eyes land on the bruise on my face. "Man, I'm sorry about that," he says with a little wince and wave of his hand. "Don't know what came over me."

_He shouldn't feel bad. You deserved it._

I smile and it's not forced or insincere and I am happy it lightens the regret in his eyes. "Don't worry about it, Mikey. It doesn't even hurt."

He laughs and this time it doesn't die out. "Sure looks like it hurts."

"Well, looks can be deceiving," I insist, twirling my staff before setting it to rest among the other weapons lining the wall.

My T-Phone buzzes against my shell where it's tucked into my belt.

"Is it April?" Mikey asks with a grin and a sing-song voice.

"Maybe," I reply, dancing out of his reach when he tries to snag the phone.

I push him back with my shell and scroll my thumb over the screen to read the message.

**Let me know you're ok.**

I can't help but grin and it only spurs on Michelangelo's desire to eavesdrop. Luckily I am a champion at multi-tasking. I hold the phone out of his reach and type back a message with my thumb while keeping him away with the other.

**Everything is all right.**

The phone buzzes almost immediately after I send the text and my smile grows.

**Good. I'll stop by the lair tomorrow. :0)**

"What did she say?" Mikey demands.

He practically crawls over my shoulder and pouts when I turn the phone off and slide it back into my belt. "Never mind," I say, throwing an arm around his shoulder. "Come on, let's go watch T.V."

"Yeah, yeah, you're just trying to distract me from the good stuff," he says but doesn't push the subject. "I think there's a monster movie marathon on."

I follow him out into the living room and plop down onto the couch while he clicks through the channels in search of something to watch. He prattles on about which movie monster would win in a fight and I offer a suggestion here and there. I settle back on the couch when the T.V. blares to life with the black and white wolf-man howling at the moon. I don't know it but the gray skies above have opened up and are drowning the city in a steady, cold rain; the perfect day to stay inside and watch movies. It feels good to sit and do nothing. It feels normal and I don't for a second take it for granted.


	8. Chapter Eight: April

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's note: This is another April POV chapter. Donnie will be back next time around

 

Chapter Eight

April

 

I think I could find my way to the lair blindfolded. Every step is as familiar as the walk to my own home. The muscle memory is so entrenched I can lose myself in thought and still end up at my destination without any unneeded detours. Today is different. I'm nervous. Maybe nervous isn't the right word. Sure my heart is fluttering and my thoughts are more than a little scatterbrained but it isn't like the painful, queasy nervous before a test, it's shaky and makes me blush, but definitely not sick to my stomach. Butterflies, it's butterflies; silly, girly typhoon causing butterflies.

I've been trying to swat them away all day, but they're persistent and clingy. They started flapping their wings when I woke up and my sleepy brain remembered how nice it was to wake up to someone beside me. They flew in circles during my calculus test and were now flitting in my stomach and tickling my ribs as I stood just outside the entrance to the lair. Silly, it is silly and unnecessary. It's Donnie, smart, sweet Donnie. You see him all the time, he's your best friend. It's just Donnie. Well, he isn't just anything anymore is he? Not since his kiss made my knees weak and he spent the night in my bed.

Stop it. You're just encouraging the butterflies. I take a deep breath and smooth out my ponytail before walking through the turnstile with my head held high. I'm sure the others know about what happened and I'm sure there will be teasing. I'm not going to stand for it. It is nothing to be made fun of. The television is set to deafening and Raphael is off to the side taking out his frustrations on the practice dummy. Mikey rolls off the couch and cranes his neck back while offering a smile and a wave when he hears me coming.

"Hey, April," he says with a grin before shoving the remainder of a slice of pizza in his mouth.

"Hey Mikey," I reply, the friendly greeting calming the butterflies somewhat.

Leonardo glances up over the top of his comic book and offers a small nod in greeting. 

"He's in his lab," Raph grumbles, punching the dummy so hard it makes the stand sway.

"Nice to see you too, Raph," I reply with enough attitude to make Mikey snicker and Leo take notice.

He holds onto the dummy and fixes me with what I'm sure he thinks is an icy stare. I will not falter. "Oh, I'm sorry. Did you come here to see us?" he asks, motioning around the room to no one in particular.

He's just looking for a fight. I won't give him one. I roll my eyes, knowing full well that my not taking his anger seriously will only bate the bear.

"Grow up," I reply.

I take the steps two at time. I keep my head held up, not giving him the opportunity to respond. The door to Donnie's lab is open a few inches and the small amount of light sneaking out is enough to set my butterflies fluttering again. I push against the inside of the door, using my weight to open it just enough to slip inside.

"She told you, man," I hear Mikey snicker.

It is followed quickly by a mutter of "Shut up, Mikey," and the sound of Raphael hitting something.

Donnie leans over his keyboard with his tongue sticking out of the corner of his mouth. He hasn't noticed I'm there and I take a moment to compose myself. His fingers type at a hurrying pace and never seem to miss a keystroke or move back to correct himself. It is amazing the dexterity he's able to accomplish; considering. I clear my throat and he pries his eyes up from his work at the intrusion. His smile turns into a grin and I don't know why it makes me blush, but it does.

"April," he says, resting his palms on the table top. His voice cracks slightly and he clears his throat around a sheepish grin. "Is school out already? I must have lost track of the time."

I think he is going to meet me halfway across the room, but he stays seated so I close the distance for both of us. I can't remember what I was going to say. I'm sure it was something cool or insightful, but the sight of a large bruise on the side of his face makes me forget my original intentions.

"What happened?" I demand, gently taking hold of his chin to move his face into the light. "Did Raphael…"

"No, no," he says stopping me short, probably sensing my growing anger. "Mikey…"

"Mikey punched you?" I ask letting go of his face when he winces.

"No, well, technically yes, but it's all right," he stammers.

He moves his hands as he talks and rolls his chair away from the desk with a squeal. I'm about to push the issue when I catch sight of his knees. He's not wearing his knee pads and the joints are noticeably swollen and bruised. I stop short of touching him and instead cover my mouth with my hand and hover around him like a concerned helicopter.

"Did Mikey do that too?" I ask.

"What? No, of course not. Master Splinter…"

"Master Splinter did this to you?" I ask in shock.

I forget my nerves and rest a hand on his leg. I pull away just as quickly when he winces.

"No, well…in a way, I suppose yes, but it's all right…"

"How? How is that all right?" I say. I put a hand on my hip and start to tap out an annoyed rhythm on the floor.

"It…it was part of training," he explains, moving his hands again and avoiding my stare. "It's fine, honest. It doesn't even hurt…that much."

My foot stops mid-tap and I let out a small sigh. "It sure looks like it hurts," I say, perching on the edge of the computer desk. "What kind of training was it exactly?"

He squirms in his seat, the movement obviously causing him discomfort. There is something he's not telling me and if I stare at him long enough he'll crack. He's an easy mark.

"Well, training might not be the most accurate description, exactly," he says, reaching up to rub the back of his neck. "I suppose, it was more training of the spirit."

"A punishment," I say in a quiet voice that kills the butterflies stone dead.

I asked him to stay and he was punished for it. He reaches a tentative hand out to rest on mine. His face is lined with concern. He's the one covered in bruises and he's concerned about me. It only makes me feel worse.

"It's not like that, April," he says with a sigh. I can see him struggle to put words to his thoughts. "It's a lesson. Sensei he…he has his reasons." A tiny smile cracks his reserve and he glances over my shoulder at the door to make sure we're alone. "Besides, it was worth it."

I don't want to smile. I'm trying to be indignant and outraged. His smile turns into a grin and I can't help but follow. I'm an easy mark.

"Was he mad?" I ask, tracing my fingers over his.

I try not to dwell on the memory of how his hands felt the other night. The fleeting remembrance is enough to start a slow blush across my face and I look down in hopes that he doesn't notice. If he does he doesn't draw attention to it.

"Not mad, per say."

"Then what?" I ask. I chance a quick look up through my eyelashes and notice his grin falters into an embarrassed grimace.

"Um, concerned," he replies with a wave of his other hand.

His shoulders tense and he rolls his head to one side. He desperately wants to change the subject. That much is certain with every small grimace or dart of his eyes. I suppose it was too much to hope for that everything would be all right like I had foolishly promised.

"April, it is good to see you."

Donatello pulls his hand away at the first hint of Master Splinter's voice and rolls his chair back up to the computer. I curl my own fingers into a fist. His hands hover over the keyboard and he stares straight forward at the screen.

"Hello, Master Splinter," I reply. My voice isn't overly friendly and I notice Donnie's eyes open a little wider although he never takes his gaze off the computer screen.

An awkward silence settles on the lab only broken by the _click, click, click_ of Donnie nervously hitting the spacebar on the keyboard. I instinctively reach a hand out to rest atop his to stop him from further typing. His eyes open further until they're almost perfect circles. I think he's holding his breath.

"April, could you please join me in the dojo. I would like to continue our training," Master Splinter says with a slight flattening of his ears.

No, more butterflies. They've been swatted away and replaced with dead moths sitting heavy in the pit of my stomach. He doesn't say anything else. He doesn't give me an opportunity to respond. He turns in one, fluid movement and strides out of the lab with such grace it's as though he's floating. If I trained for my entire life I would never reach a level even close to that. Donnie's hand closes around mine once he's certain we're alone. I sometimes forget how strong he is and wiggle my fingers to let him know to loosen his grip.

"This is not good," he breathes, eyes still like saucers. "Don't go in there. I'll…I'll say you got sick."

"I'm not afraid of Sensei," I reply, prying my hand out of his crushing grip as I hop down from the computer desk.

"I'm not either," he says, a hint of insult clinging to his words. He leans heavily on the desk to push to his feet, letting out a pained hiss through his teeth. "Afraid…I'm not…that's not the right word."

I stand on my tiptoes and take hold of his face, careful to avoid the bruise. "Whatever he has to say I'll listen and that'll be the end of it," I insist.

He doesn't look like he believes me and I'm sure the hard line of my jaw doesn't help my case. He shifts his weight and grimaces at the slight movement. I try to keep my anger hidden. I try to mask it behind an aloof smile, but that grimace and those bruises are Master Splinter's fault. I don't care what life lesson he was trying to impart. He better be ready to listen to what I have to say as well.

"Just…just try to control your temper," he says quietly. "Please."

"What? I always do," I say. I steal a quick kiss, hoping it will distract him. "Everything will be all right, I promise. Okay?"

He sighs and gives a little nod. "Okay."

"Good," I say, fixing my ponytail for what seems like the hundredth time that day. "Put some ice on your knees," I add with a raised eyebrow that just begs him to argue with me.

The walk to the dojo seems to take longer than on any day before it. I keep my head up and my eyes forward, ignoring the snicker off to my left that I'm sure generates from Raphael. He is not my priority at the moment. Master Splinter sits cross-legged under the tree, his hands resting atop his legs with the palms facing up. He lifts one hand and motions to the place beside him without opening his eyes.

"Please, sit, my child," he says.

Normally I wouldn't mind the greeting, but the way he says child cuts under my skin and starts my blood boiling. I sit beside him just the same, pulling my legs up beneath me. I wait him out. If he has something to say I'm not going to be the one to initiate the conversation. He lets out a long, slow breath, only opening his eyes when there is no more air left in his lungs.

"You're angry with me."

It's not a question so I don't answer him. I take in a breath that mirrors his own and stare straight forward. I told Donnie I wouldn't lose my temper. I hadn't intended to keep that promise but the pleading in his voice makes me at least attempt to remain calm. I can see Master Splinter out of the corner of my eye. He reaches up to stroke his beard in thought. He lowers his hands to rest atop his legs once more.

"I don't expect you to understand…"

"So, why don't you explain yourself," I say, interrupting him.

You don't interrupt Master Splinter and the flicker of surprise on his face is there and gone in an instant. I set my mouth in a firm line and try not to wilt under his stare. I don't know if I expect him to rise to anger or to chastise me for not showing him respect. I would not have been surprised by either response. What I am not ready for is the low sigh and slight dip of his shoulders. I know he was once a man. That the body he wears now is not his original, but in that moment he appears more human than rat and it sets me off balance.

"It is hardest for him," he says, quietly. "This…life. It is hardest on him."

The sigh is just a memory, one I can't be certain I even heard or just imagined. He straightens his shoulders and is once again the Sensei I have become accustomed to. I feel some of my anger slip away and something equally unpleasant settles in the pit of my stomach as he continues.

"He understands what it is we are missing. What he and his brothers cannot have and it makes him restless," he says around another ghost of a sigh. "His intelligence, his pursuits they make it difficult for him to remain content with our life."

"So you punish him for it?" I say, my anger crawling up from my stomach. It's red and ugly and makes me curl my face into a sneer. "He wants more out of life so you punish him for it?"

There is a twitch of his whiskers and he raises one slender brow. "That is not…"

"You hurt him. With whatever lesson you meant to teach him. You hurt him," I say, interrupting Master Splinter for a second time. "You were so busy being a teacher when you should have been a father."

I've gone too far. I realize it, but I'm too angry or too stubborn to stop the malicious and accusing words as they tumble out of my mouth. He doesn't say anything at first and I hope beyond reason that maybe he didn't hear me. His slow and steady breath catches and his back straightens. I feel my face burn with a nauseating mixture of shame and anger. He doesn't deserve the brunt of it, but he's there and he's a target I can lash out at. It's the world that I'm angry with and there's nothing I can scream at or hit that can change that.

"Master Splinter, I…"

I try to apologize, the words catching in my throat that seems to grow tighter with each passing second. He raises a hand to stop me and I blink in surprise when he rests it atop my own. He doesn't look at me, for which I am grateful. I'm too embarrassed and ashamed not to crack under his stare and I'm afraid my only recourse will be anger if I try to fight it. I miss the butterflies. I want the butterflies.

"I want what is best for all of my sons," he says and I falter under the sound of his stern voice even without the added stare. "Above all it is my responsibility to keep them safe. Sometimes that means hard lessons. Theirs is not any easy life, April. It is full of sacrifice and struggle. Any lesson I try to teach them is only meant to help them carry that weight; too make them stronger."

His words are bleak and truthful and they make my heart clench in my chest. It isn't fair. I can't escape it, I can't change it and when only a few moments ago that filled me with anger I now settle on despair and it hurts just the same.

"And what about happiness?" I ask. I take in a sharp breath as my voice threatens to tremble. "Don't they deserve that? Don't they deserve to at least try to have more?"

A hint of a smile passes Master Splinter's lips. It's sad and wistful and gone before it barely begins. He understands. He was once a man after all. He understands my frustration and the bitter truth of their existence. The world will never accept them. They fight to save it. They risk their lives and yet they will never truly be a part of it. The only happiness they are likely to find is what they can make on their own.

"You think I told him to stop pursuing you," he says and it isn't a question because Master Splinter knows me well. The sad smile passes his features once more and he lowers his voice. "He cares a great deal for you."

My heart tightens in my chest once more, but this time there is a slight flutter and I think maybe the butterflies aren't entirely dead after all. "I…I care for him," I push the words out around the lump in my throat and there is no taking them back.

I don't want to take them back. They're the truth and I'm not ashamed of them.

His hand tightens over the top of mine and I steady my breathing. "It will not be easy," he says quietly. "And it might not end well," he says, sensing that I'm about to argue because he adds. "You are both very young."

The butterflies start flapping and I fear he can hear their wings. It isn't our differences that have him concerned. It isn't the challenges the world will put in our way. It's something far simpler, something so normal and commonplace it takes me by surprise. Despite my brutal accusation only moments before, his concerns are that of a father above all else. I feel small and naïve in the moment and I understand completely why he called me child.

"Sensei…I…I'm sorry…" I stumble through an apology as my face burns red with embarrassment and shame.

I should have listened to Donatello and not lost my temper. The small smile is back on Master Splinter's face and this time it lingers for more than just a moment and holds warmth instead of sadness.

"There is no need for an apology," he says and lifts his hand away. "I understand what it is to feel someone has hurt one you care for," he adds with a turn of his smile that borders on a smirk. "Although perhaps you should work on controlling your temper."


	9. Chapter Nine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a short chapter this time around, an interlude if you will. Split between Donnie and April's POV.

 

Chapter Nine

Donatello

It is cold. That particular damp, autumn cold that reaches down to your bones and makes old injuries ache. The sky is gunmetal gray and filled with a drizzling blanket of rain. Miserable, some might call it, but I don't care. I'm inside where it's dry and warm, nestled on the couch with April leaning back against me. The television is on, the movie flickering on the screen the pretext for my visit. I'm having trouble focusing on the plot with the way she keeps tracing her fingers idly along the muscles in my arms. She's staring straight ahead, watching the movie and I'm not entirely convinced she realizes what she's doing. All I can do is realize it. It's gentle and sweet and best of all done as a relaxed afterthought without any hesitation.

The last few days have been full of similar touches. Shy, but deliberate and unquestionably sincere. We would touch before; a scattered hug or unavoidable connections during training or a mission. These touches are different. There is meaning behind every graze of her fingers and a promise of something less wholesome on the horizon. The thought of that both excites and terrifies in equal measure. There have been a few kisses since that first night. Mostly rushed and innocent with none of the desperate heat of our first embraces. My mind tends to wander back to that night and the feel of her against me. Those wandering thoughts are not helping me to focus on the movie one bit.

"Ugh, that is so stupid," April says with a laugh, waving haphazardly at the screen. "There is no way all of those guys would just wait around and attack one at a time."

"Um, yeah, you're right," I say, clearing my throat.

_You have no idea what you're talking about. You're not even watching the movie. She's going to ask you what you think and you're going to stammer like an idiot and stare at her like a creep. You're staring now. Knock it off._

I clear my throat again and shift awkwardly, not wanting to disturb her. She laughs at a particularly ridiculous fight sequence on the screen and her fingers curl against the skin just above my elbow pad. She smells like flowers and feels so warm and inviting. I want to wrap my arms around her. I want to turn the movie off and kiss her the way I did the other night. Instead I settle for the gentle touches against my arm. She wants to take things slow, so that is what we'll do. I don't want to scare her off. I don't want to ruin this. Even if we don't go beyond where we are now, this could be enough. It's still more than I ever thought I would have.

"Hey?"

I blink, surprised to see her craning her neck to look up at me with a hint of concern in her eyes.

"Where'd you go?" she asks and her hand is tracing along the edge of my jaw just outside the bruise that has faded to an unappealing yellowish-green.

"Huh?" I mumble, clearing my throat for the third time.

_Smooth._

"You look…preoccupied," she says, the concern melting into a shy smile. "Just wondering where you went in there," she adds, gently tapping the side of my head.

_I was thinking about kissing you and how you're skin turned pink the last time I did it._

"Sorry, I wasn't…sometimes my mind wanders," I reply, offering a smile I'm sure is nothing but goofy.

_Do not look her in the eye. She'll know where your mind was wandering. She'll see right through you._

"Hmm, I see," she says and I get the sinking suspicion she is up to something.

She shifts her weight and places a palm firmly on the center of my plastron to push herself up onto her knees. My legs are on either side of her as she leans against me and I don't move. I don't know where to put my hands or my eyes for that matter. She leans over and rests her forehead against mine. She's smirking and I take in a shaky breath trying to calm the growing warmth and excitement inside me.

"Is there anything I can do to keep it from wandering?" she asks with a coy smile.

_She wants you to kiss her. Just do it, coward._

I don't need my thoughts to tell me what to do. My body is already ahead of my mind. I slip one hand to cradle her head and pull her lips to mine. The kiss is anything but shy and I chance to move my other hand down her spine to rest just above the waistband of her jeans. She sighs into my mouth and moves her body to meet my touch. It's warm and wonderful and full of fire. She shifts and now the majority of her weight is pressed down against me. I struggle to keep from lifting my hips up to meet her even as it is currently the only thing I want to do. It's too soon and that's not taking it slow, although neither is the way she's drawing her nails up the bridge in my shell.

I let out a tiny moan when her fingers dip into the place beneath my arm where my shell meets skin. I can't help it. Her hands are warm and searching and finding places I've never been touched before. Not by another person anyway. I tighten the hand on her back and squirm under her inquisitive hands. Her mouth breaks from mine and I'm certain I whimper at the loss of contact. Her mouth is gone for a moment, only to return under the line of my jaw before traveling down the side of my neck to where it meets my shoulder.

_Think of math. Think of snow and ice and cold. Think of something, because if she keeps doing that you're going to embarrass yourself pretty soon._

Her hand is pressed against my plastron and she sits back on her feet, never losing contact. Her lips are parted slightly and there's a slight pant to her breaths. She has never looked more beautiful. Her hands are back and tracing every groove and dip along my plastron. I swallow back a moan, but can't stop a blush from tearing across my face when I lift up in anticipation of her touch.

"Is this…okay?" she asks and that shy smile is back.

"Y-yeah," I stammer as nothing has ever been more okay in the history of all things.

* * *

April

I did not intend for things to go this way when I woke up this morning. I had a plan. It was the same plan that was cut short only a few days before. A nice, lazy afternoon spent curled on the couch with Donatello watching bad movies. Maybe there would be a few stolen kisses and less than innocent cuddles, but we were going to take things slow. I was going to take things slow. That was before.

Before I couldn't stop touching the cool, smooth skin of his arms; delighting in the way his muscles twitched under my fingers. That was before I leaned over him and he kissed me. Before his kiss made me forget any intentions of taking things slow. I want to touch him. Partly because it feels good and more importantly because it makes his breath catch and drags a tiny moan from his throat. It's a thing of wonder to see Donatello relax even in the slightest, like catching sight of a rare bird in the wild.

His hand is firm and cool against the small of my back and I arch up towards it while we kiss. I want that hand to move elsewhere, anywhere, everywhere. He won't if I don't encourage him or flat out ask. He's nervous and tentative and probably assuming I'm going to pull away in disgust at any moment. I move my hands lower, tracing the grooves and dips along his plastron with increased pressure. He's squirming beneath my touch and lifts slightly towards it.

"Is this…okay?" I ask with a smile, even though I know it is. I want to hear him say it.

"Y-yeah," he replies through a heavy breath and closed eyes.

I keep my hands above the belt. Despite already having gone further and faster than I intended that's not a line I'm quite ready to cross and I don't think he is either. I let out a little startled yelp when he shifts beneath me and takes hold of my arms to guide me back on the opposite end of the couch. His mouth is on mine once more and I open to him, moaning when our tongues touch. I'm finding it hard to believe that someone with so little experience is such a good kisser. He probably did his research. He hovers over me and only rests a portion of his weight on my body. I sigh and tremble when I feel one of his hands rest in the dip of my waist.

"S'all right," I murmur between kisses, angling my body against his hand in encouragement.

I chance a look up at him through my eyelashes and can't help but blush. His pupils are dilated and his breath is short and ragged to match my own. He keeps his eyes on my face as he slowly moves his hand up along my ribs. His hand catches the bottom of my shirt and unintentionally exposes a portion of my midriff. The edge of his cool thumb glances across my skin and I let out a sigh that starts in my toes and echoes throughout my chest. He catches the sigh with a kiss and I reach up to pull him closer. I can't think of anything that would pull me out of this moment. Until the shrill sound of his T-Phone buzzing and clattering across the coffee table shatters the mood.

"Don't…don't answer it," I plead, pulling him back to me when he turns at the sound.

He grimaces and with obvious effort breaks our embrace. "I have to," he grumbles and sits up, leaving me disheveled and cold in his absence.

"What?" he snaps into the receiver after sliding his thumb across the screen to answer the call.

He winces and instantly looks contrite obviously getting an earful from whoever is on the other end. I sit up and try to make myself presentable, pulling down my shirt and smoothing out my hair. My breathing is starting to even out but my heart is still thudding in my chest and my lips tingle. Donatello has his eyes closed and he's pressing a knuckle between them as he nods and mumbles the occasional 'uh huh,' into his phone.

"Right…yes…I understand that, Leo, but…no, I didn't, that's not…yes, fine…all right. I said all right, didn't I?" he struggles to get a word in before slamming his finger against the screen, ending the call.

"So? Good news?" I say, hoping my teasing will lighten the mood.

He lets out a tiny snort of a laugh and rubs his eyes. "Yeah, something like that," he says with I sigh. "I'm sorry, April, I…"

"Have to go," I finish for him and he nods, looking quite miserable.

I crawl towards him and drape my arms over his shoulders, leaning in to rest my forehead against his. "It's all right, I'm sure the fate of the world is in the balance," I give him a quick kiss, afraid that if I linger for too long we'll soon be wrapped up in one another. "Call me, let me know you're all right."

He nods and a smile settles on his face. I feel a similar expression grace my features because I know I'm responsible for it and it's how I like to see him best; happy.


	10. Chapter Ten

 

Chapter Ten

 

I know it is cold out. I could see the rain and the gray sky from inside April's apartment. I didn't need to go running across the rooftops to convince me of it. The rain stings my exposed skin and only fuels the bitterness that has been festering in my mind since my phone rang. They couldn't even let me have one afternoon alone with April. That's all I wanted, one afternoon. A few hours when I wouldn't have to worry, or work, or fight and now I'll probably end up doing all of those things. It's like they were lying in wait until things were just close to perfect to pull me back to reality; or at least our reality.

_They call and you come running._

My legs have mainly healed from my encounter with Master Splinter, although my right knee gives a slight twinge every time I leap down from any discernible height. They're only a few buildings away. I can see them waiting through the curtain of rain. Leonardo is perched on the edge of the rooftop and I'm sure he's already spotted me. So I slow my movements and take my time. It's petty and childish but it gives me a small sense of pleasure just the same. I drop down onto the water-tower beside Michelangelo. He's trying to use it as cover from the rain with very little success.

"Hey, D," he says with a smile full of chattering teeth.

"Nice of you to show up," a less than welcoming voice adds with a snicker.

Casey.

I don't know why it surprises me that he's here. It's a Saturday and he often goes on patrol with my brothers and I. He's standing with his bent arm resting on Raphael's shoulder, using the shorter turtle to hold up his almost permanent slouch. They're both smirking like they know some great and powerful secret that they can't wait to use to humiliate someone. Most likely me if past percentages are any indication. I take my time climbing down from the tower. It's an attempt to stall. I don't know what they've told him. I don't know how he'll react, or if I even care. I try to come up with a sharp response, something witty and sarcastic to match the mirrored expressions on Casey and Raphs' faces.

"Yeah, well…Leo just called me."

_That'll show 'em._

"If you had come with us in the first place he wouldn't have had to call you," Raph replies, shaking off Casey's arm.

_He's mad you went off on your own. You're gone two hours and they already resent you for it._

Leonardo jumps down from the ledge, nearly silent as always in his landing. He has something metallic and shiny gripped in one hand and my curiosity shoves aside any other feeling or thought. I hold my hand out expectantly and my brother drops the small contraption into my outstretched palm. I slide my thumb over the polished surface to clear the interface of raindrops. It's heavy with sharp corners and unmistakably Kraang in nature. Although, technically, I've never seen anything quite like it.

"The Purple Dragons had a truck-full of these things," Leo explains and I catch sight of a box alongside the ledge and assume it is filled with similar devices. "What is it?"

_Yeah, what's taking so long? You looked at it and held it in your hand for ten seconds, you should have it all figured out by now. Fix it, Donnie. That's all they need you for._

"I'm not sure," I say, trying not to get riled by their impatience. "It's definitely Kraang."

I turn it over in my hand and duck under the water tower in attempt to escape the brunt of the rain. I kneel down and regret that decision when my right knee wobbles under my weight. I sit cross-legged instead, sliding my T-phone out of my belt and hoping none of my brothers or Casey caught the tiny pained grimace I am sure flashed across my face.

_You're weak. It was just a stress position and you couldn't even handle it. Do you think any of them would still be hurting after even one day?_

"So what does it do?" Raphael asks this time.

I take in a sharp breath through my nose instead of snapping at him. I don't understand how they expect me to figure anything out when they keep pestering me. Mikey drops down beside me, leaning over my shoulder to watch my hands move.

"Maybe it's another communicator?" he suggests.

I catch hold of his wrist before he can poke the devise with his outstretched finger.

"Maybe," I murmur, although I doubt it. "It might not be entirely its own device. Possibly just a piece of something bigger."

I let go of Mikey's wrist only to swat his hand away when he tries to poke the interface again.

"Well, that's comforting," Raphael mutters.

"There's an indent along this side," I say. It's more for the need to think out loud than to actually include any of them in my thought process.

I run my thumb along the edge in question. I don't register that I've cut myself until I see the thin line of blood blossom against the green skin of my thumb. A sharp sting follows and I curse and instinctively put the cut in my mouth. A mechanical whir sounds and the tech trembles in my hand. If I was the genius people seem to think I am I probably would have dropped it. Instead I open my eyes wide and lean forward to get a better look. There's an audible crack and the center of the device falls in on itself, glowing green around the edges.

"Is that…mutagen?" Mikey asks with a crinkle of his freckles.

No sooner are the words out of his mouth than the device gives another tremble. There's a loud pop and the center panel springs forward, spraying the green ooze up in an arch. I might not like training as much as my brothers, I might not agree with all of Master Splinter's methods but in the heartbeat it takes to push myself and my brother out of the mutagen's path I'm thankful for the quickness of my reflexes. The ooze splashes onto the rooftop beside our feet and starts to dilute in the rain.

"What the hell did you do that for?" Raph demands, jumping back even though he is nowhere near the mutagen.

The startled movement makes Casey snigger and he gets a punch to the shoulder for his troubles.

"Because I wanted to spray all of us with mutagen," I snap sarcastically.

Leo leans over and picks up the empty container. He looks worried.

"So, the Kraang have a new way to transport mutagen," he says, turning it over with a frown.

"Technically, I think it's a dispensing unit," I say, snagging it out of his grip.

Judging by the way his frown slides into a slight scowl I assume my correction isn't welcome. It usually isn't. I don't do it to irritate them, even though irritation is usually the look or tone of voice I get in response. I just can't let misinformation sit out in the open like that. They dragged me up here into the rain to decipher these things. So that's what I'm going to do.

_They just want you to fix things and shut up about it._

"Why would the Purple Dragons want to spray people with mutagen?" Mikey asks and I push his hand down for a third time. "Are they trying to make more mutants to kick their butts?" he says with a loud, boisterous laugh.

Raph and Casey add their own sniggers and I'm glad to no longer be the focus of Leo's disapproving frown.

"Maybe they're stealing it for someone else," Leonardo says.

"Or maybe they didn't know what they were stealing. Those jerks take whatever they can get their hands on, they probably thought it was a truck full of electronics," Casey offers, pulling the hood of his sweatshirt up against the rain.

"Donnie, do you think your mutagen tracker can find these things?"

I looked down at the empty container in my hand. The opening is little more than nine centimeters across. "I don't know," I admit. "Maybe after some recalibrations. We were tracking full canisters before this is just a fraction of that amount."

"Then you better get to work," Leo replies.

_Quit talking about it and just fix it, Donnie._

I'm curling my hand into a fist before I'm even aware of the movement, anger burning away the cold sting of the rain. I don't say anything. I never say anything. I just let my frustrations simmer away until something pushes me over the edge and then I blow up.

_Or you go crazy and don't sleep for days. Either way they give you that look._

"Mikey, Casey help Donnie bring this stuff back to the lair. Raph and I will see if we can find any Purple Dragons who feel like talking."

Raphael cracks his knuckles and gets that particular grin on his face when he's anticipating violence. I glance over at the box beside the roof's edge. I was under the impression that was all they liberated from the truck. I can handle carrying a single box by myself.

"I don't need a chaperone, Leo," I say with more than a hint of bitterness.

_They still think there's something wrong with you. He thinks you're going to take off or worse. They don't trust you._

"I didn't say that you did," Leonardo replies and his voice is cautious and even.

_That's how you would talk to a wild animal._

If they didn't think there was something wrong with me before they certainly do now. Leonardo holds my gaze and sets his mouth in a straight line. He'll wait me out. Raphael shifts uncomfortably on his feet, no longer wearing his happy, violence smirk. Mikey will talk first. He always does. I'm not surprised when I feel his arm drape around my shoulders even if it's a struggle for him with the difference in our height.

"Come on, man. Let's get this stuff back to the lair. It's freezing out here," he says and I let him lead me over to the ledge and away from Leo's worried stare.

I shrug out from under his arm and heave the box up. There have to be at least a hundred of the devices inside, making the box heavier than I anticipated. I will not ask for help carrying it, not after I already made a fool of myself. I shouldn't have answered my phone. I could still be on the couch with April…kissing April. I feel my face burn at the memory and drop my eyes to my feet, hoping no one notices. Michelangelo must assume I'm embarrassed by the weight of the box because he quickly takes hold of one side to help carry it.

"This thing weighs like a million pounds," he says with a grin.

"Let me know when you get the tracker working," Leo says, hopping up onto the ledge on the other side of the roof. "Come on, Raph."

Raphael looks like he might argue. There's a forceful clench of his jaw and he lets out a snort of air through his nose I can hear over the wind and rain. He looks like he might argue, but he doesn't. He offers a small shrug instead and followers our eldest brother up and over the ledge of the roof.

"Dudes," Casey says with a snicker that is more nervous than amused or sarcastic. "What is going on with you guys?"

"Let's get back to the lair," I reply, ignoring his question.

Casey Jones is absolutely the last person on earth I want to confide in at the moment. Carrying the heavy and cumbersome box across the rain-soaked rooftops proves a challenge, even with Michelangelo's help. By the time we reach the sewers my arms are tired and the cold has settled a constant sting across all of my exposed skin. By the way Mikey's teeth chatter and he shifts his side of the box every few seconds I know I'm not alone. April's dry, warm apartment seems light-years away.

"Uh, Dude, you're bleeding," Mikey says, motioning with his chin towards my hand.

He's not wrong. The sting of the cold dulled my senses to anything else and that preoccupation has made me oblivious to the slick trail of blood that has oozed its way almost to my elbow. I try with little success to hold up the box with my knee to shift it to my other arm. Casey darts forward and takes hold of the box. I would be lying if I said it didn't please me a little bit to see him struggle to keep it aloft. The cut on my thumb is far deeper than I originally thought and per usual with wounds on the hand, it is bleeding… a lot.

"Just great," I mutter.

I tear off a piece of my bandana and tie it around my thumb, attempting to place the pressure of the knot over the slice in my skin.

"You all right?" Mikey asks, peering at me over the top of the box.

"Yeah, it's just a small cut," I say, not wanting to worry him more than I already have.

Although I'm not entirely sure it won't need a stitch or two once we get back to the lair. Mikey doesn't look convinced but starts trudging through the sewer towards home. I try to take back my side of the box, but Casey shrugs me off and assures me that he's got it, even as he struggles to keep up with my brother. The dank sewer tunnel gives way to drier, older subway track and the promise that we've almost reached out destination.

"Hey, Dude, I'm sorry we…ya know, interrupted or whatever," Mikey says in what I'm sure he thought was a whisper. "But we really did need your help."

_You're selfish._

I caution a sideways glance at Casey who is doing a rather poor impression of someone who isn't eavesdropping. My face grows warm with embarrassment and I fiddle with the make-shift bandage around my hand, using it as an excuse to avoid eye contact. I clear my throat and pull up onto the subway platform, reaching down to help them heave the box up after me.

"S'fine, Mikey," I say, hoping he catches my drift and drops the subject.

I very rarely get what I want.

"No, man, it's not. I know how much you were looking forward to it, and…"

"I said it's fine, Mikey," I say again a bit more stern this time.

Casey's snicker makes my jaw tighten and I fight to keep a straight face.

"Seriously, what is going on?" he asks, pulling himself up onto the platform. "You've all been acting weirder than usual today and that's sayin' something."

Mikey's eyes widen and it's as if he is now just realizing that Casey is in earshot and that perhaps he should have waited to have this conversation. I can see the internal struggle to come up with a response fight across his eyes. He's going to say something to make this worse. I can sense it with a tingle at the back of my mind. I imagine this is what it must feel like to see a car coming straight for you without any hope of avoiding impact.

"Donnie was over at April's and Leo totally ruined it and made him leave," Mikey blurts out, instantly clapping his hands over his mouth after the words have already exploded across the air.

I cringe. I can't help it. Mikey looks properly ashamed. I don't bother shooting him a glare or verbally cutting him down. It wouldn't do any good. Besides, damage done. The truth, or at least the assumption of truth is out in the open. It'll be better this way. Clear the air. I wasn't about to do it myself so maybe I should be thanking my brother for getting it over with.

_Maybe._

Casey's face is blank, as though processing the information he just attained is too much for him to even wrap an expression around. I should probably take offense to that. I'm about to say as much when he slowly tilts his head in my direction. His eyes are narrowed, more in thought than anything malicious, but I brace myself for an insult non-the-less.

"You…and April?" he asks, lazily pointing at me with one glove-covered finger. There is an underlying question to those three words and it hangs heavy with disbelief.

"Yeah, me and April," I reply, leaving no doubt to my meaning.

I straighten my spine and roll back my shoulders, daring him to make fun of me…of us. He raises a single eyebrow and stays silent for the space of a few seconds. His shoulders rise and fall in a shrug.

"All right," he says, pulling off his hood and shaking the stubborn rain water from his hair.

My whole body is tense and ready for a fight. I uncurl my fingers from the fists I made at my sides. I was ready for a fight. I wasn't ready for easy acceptance and an indifferent shrug.

"All right?" I repeat back at him, certain this must be some kind of trick.

He lets out a laugh and re-ties his bandana around his head. "Yeah, man, all right," he says with another shrug. "She made her choice," he adds with a smirk that is nothing short of lecherous. "There are plenty of other ladies out there who will be all about Casey Jones."

I must be staring at him with my mouth hanging open because he sighs and continues.

"Dude, all she did at the dance was mope. If she's not interested in me I'm not going to chase after her. I've got self-respect."

_Implying that you don't._

"Besides," he says with that predatory smirk. "If you're what she's attracted to I never stood a chance, right?" he asks, punching me in the back of the shoulder.

_He's insulting both of you. Are you going to stand for that?_

"Ha, right, yeah," Mikey says, apparently thrilled the two of us didn't come to blows. "You can't compete with raw animal magmatism," he says, draping his arm over my shoulder and momentarily keeping me from punching Casey in his smug face.

"It's magnetism," I correct him before I can stop myself. It's a gut reaction.

"Aw, whatever," Mikey says with a laugh, leaning over to hoist up his end of the box. "Help me get this thing inside."

I'm not sure if I quite believe Casey's readiness to accept the situation. I do know that I don't really care. It doesn't matter what he thinks. It doesn't matter what any of them think. It only matters what April and I think and if her actions earlier today are any indication she is perfectly fine with the way things are progressing.

I'm still not pleased with the interruption, but some of the bitter weight of my anger lifts from my shoulders. Mikey was right. They needed my help and I shouldn't resent them for it. I have responsibilities and even though I might want to ignore them every now and then that doesn't mean I should. I'll recalibrate the mutagen tracker and we'll find the rest of these dispensers. I'll fix this. That's what I'm here for.

I heave the box into my arms, letting it rest on my forearms and away from my hand where the cut on my thumb is making itself known now that the cold of the day is somewhat abating. I'll recalibrate the tracker as soon as I sew up this cut.

_Clean out the wound, sew up the cut, recalibrate, find the mutagen_ … _and text April. You promised you would._


	11. Chapter Eleven

 

Chapter Eleven

"All right, so I start from this side, right?" Mikey asks and the tremble to his voice and worse his hand fills me with dread.

"Yes, that's right," I say, trying my best to sound supportive and not terrified that my brother is going to maim me. "Start about a quarter of an inch from the cut, no that's more like a whole inch. Here, start here," I instruct, pointing. "Don't go too deep," I say with a little more worry behind the words than I intended.

He holds the needle and thread up and takes a step back. "I can't do this," he says, shaking his head. "I'm going to mess it up."

"No, no you'll do fine," I say quickly. "It's only a couple stitches. Just start here where I showed you, don't go too deep and don't pull the skin too tight."

"He's going to stab through your finger," Casey says from his seat at my computer desk

His feet are propped up on the desk and he's chowing down on a bag of cheesy popcorn like he's watching a movie. I shoot him a glare and try to smooth over his less than helpful commentary.

"No, he won't. He'll do just fine," I insist.

I don't want to move my hand off the surgical towel I laid down for fear of contaminating the wound I just spent my time irrigating. I would sew it up myself if I could. I tried, but couldn't get a good enough grip on the small needle with my left hand. Normally I'm the one stitching up my brothers. I've done it enough times where the sight of needles going into skin doesn't bother me anymore. It bothers Michelangelo. He's going to have to get over it. I need him to do this. There is no way I'm asking Casey for help.

"Come on, Mikey. I can't do it myself," I admit.

He takes a deep breath and squares his shoulders. It's his determined look and it is far more comforting than his uncertain one. "All right, I'll do it," he says, pointing the needle at me. "But if I mess up you can't get mad at me."

"Deal."

He takes a few more calming breathes before sliding the needle into my skin. I try very hard not to wince. It can't be helped. The wound already throbs up towards my wrist and the added insult of jabbing a needle through the skin around it isn't doing me any favors. I try to hide the wince behind encouraging words and further instruction. Mikey takes his time. He winces along with me every time he pushes the needle through my skin and lets out a long-held breath when he reaches the end and carefully ties off the thread.

"Th-there, see, nothing to it," I say, motioning with my head towards the tube beside my hand on the towel. "Put some of that on the cut and wrap it," I add, letting out my own held breath.

He sets the needle down and carefully puts some of the antibiotic ointment over his work before tying it off with a clean bandage. He really did do a good job, especially for his first time. I'm sure he would be more inclined to believe me when I tell him so if I wasn't still grimacing every time I move the digit. The throbbing pain will go away soon. As it is I don't have time for it. I have work to do. Mikey starts to clean up the medical supplies as I lift the box of Kraang devices up onto the table top. The box is mushy with rainwater and heavy with the unpleasant aroma of wet cardboard. I start to reach into the box and think better of it.

_Gloves, put on gloves._

I walk over to my computer desk and push Casey's legs off the top so I can gain access to the drawer. He gives an annoyed grunt and spills some of his popcorn. I take out a pair of leather gloves and further push him aside to open the bottom drawer to fetch the mutagen tracker. Casey makes a big show of backing away from the desk to give me room and wipes off his cheese-covered fingers on the fronts of his jeans.

"Cue the boring science stuff, think it's my time to exit," Casey says.

He shakes the remaining popcorn into his mouth before crumpling up the bag and tossing it in the trash. Part of me thinks he might be disappointed that Mikey didn't puncture my thumb. He cracks his neck and reaches back to pull his mask up to rest atop his head.

"I'll see if Raph and Leo need any help," he adds, picking up his weapons bag from the floor.

I'm not sad to see him go. Even with his supposed acceptance of April and I, the mood has been nothing but uncomfortable since entering the lair. I give a slight nod to acknowledge that I heard him, there's no real need to be outwardly rude after all and Mikey waves and shouts out a goodbye. He'll stay in the lab with me. Usually that is a recipe for slowing down my progress, but I don't particularly mind the company right now. Casey clomps out of the lab and I turn my attention to my work.

"Heya, Red."

His voice travels from the other room and I instinctively curl my hand into a fist at the sound of the nickname he calls April. I'm not thinking and the movement sends a fresh sting of pain shooting up from my newly-stitched thumb. I can't make out her quiet response even as I strain my ears in an attempt to overhear.

_April? April is here? You didn't text her. He must have._

My eyes go wide and I stumble around the desk, nearly tripping on my own feet. She's at the door before I can reach it. She's wearing a polka dotted rain coat and black Wellington boots. The tendrils of red hair that sneak out around the coat's hood are wet with rain and I resist the urge to gently wipe them from her face. She smiles when she sees me and I forget. I forget about the constant throb of pain from my thumb. I forget that I'm supposed to be working. All that matters, the only thing that grabs my attention is that smile.

_She's happy to see you._

"April," I say in place of a more eloquent greeting. I hope my own smile says what my words don't.

"Hey," she replies, pushing back the hood of her coat. "Mikey said you might need help with some new Kraang tech."

_Mikey?_

His hand clamps down on my shoulder and I turn slowly to look at him, not entirely surprised that he's grinning back at me. "Yeah, yeah I sure did," he says, nodding at me as though he's urging me to agree. "You could really use the help. Right, D?"

"Umm, yeah," I murmur, still in shock or awe that my brother took the time to invite her over.

He lets go and slaps me on the back of the shoulder, causing me to pitch forward slightly. "I'm gonna get something to drink," he says, pointing at April. "You want something?"

"Uh, tea would be great, thanks," she says with a smile before hanging up her coat to dry.

"Tea, got it," he says with a snap of his fingers and a less-than stealthy wink in my direction.

April waits until he's left the lab before speaking. "I think we've been set up."

I can't tell if it's a blush that crosses her face or if it's just her skin letting go of the chill from outside. Either way the tint makes the freckles across her nose stand out and makes my mind wander. I want to rush over and take her in my arms, but I stay rooted to my place beside the computer desk.

"He feels bad about interrupting our…movie," I explain, clearing my throat around the last word.

The color darkening my own face is most obviously a blush. I reach up to take hold of the strap across my chest and stop short of closing my fingers around it when I catch sight of the worried expression on her face.

"What did you do to your hand?" she asks.

She's beside me and cradling my hand in her own before I can even register that she's moved. She turns it over with a grimace and it wouldn't surprise me if she is attempting to see through the white gauze wrapped around the cut.

"It's just a cut," I assure her, adding in a smile for good measure. "All stitched up, nothing to worry about."

She purses her lips halfway to a frown and I know she isn't convinced. "Uh huh," she says.

She lifts my hand and rests the lightest of kisses against the underside of my wrist. It makes me shiver and I tilt her chin up to capture her lips with my own. I don't know when I became so bold. She leans into the kiss and doesn't pull away when I move my hands around her waist. Kissing April at her apartment was something like a dream. A reprieve from my life, where I could almost imagine we were just normal teenagers. In the cool light of my lab, with the rumble and smell of the lair ever present our differences somehow seemed heightened and the experience more real. This is my domain. This is where I feel most at home and it's where April is kissing me.

"So, Kraang tech?" she says, pulling back slightly with panting breaths and heavy lidded eyes.

_You have a job to do, focus. The sooner you figure it out the sooner you can get back to kissing._

I clear my throat and swallow with a nod. "Uh, yeah, right, of course," I say. "I think it's a device to dispense mutagen."

She puts her hands on my upper plastron to lightly push away and I try not to let my mind wander to the last time she put her hands there. "Sounds like we have some work to do," she says with a wistful smile.

_She said we._

"Let's find you some gloves," I say, feeling cold when she pulls away entirely.

"I'm immune to mutagen, remember?" she says, perching on the edge of the computer desk while I search through the drawers for a pair of gloves I haven't modified for my own use.

"Not immune to sharp edges though," I reply with a wiggle of my bandage covered hand.

The small movement causes a sharp pain to travel up through my wrist and I try to cover it with a cough. I'm sure she doesn't buy it. She doesn't push the subject and we get to work. The last couple years have been a new experience for me. My lab, my work has always been a place for solitude. Sure Mikey occasionally joined me, but it was more for company than any true assistance. With April it is different. She not only wants to help, she's competent and capable of doing so. It only makes me like her more.

We don't talk much while we work. We don't have to. I appreciate that; the comfortable silence that only exists between people who trust one another. My brothers tend to fill every available space with noise. It isn't that way with April and the quiet lets me think, it lets me work. It lets us work. Mikey took his time getting drinks. I'm sure he thought he was doing me a favor and after returning he sits off to the side in very Un-Mikey-like silence. He lets us work.

Even after meticulous calibrations the mutagen tracker seems unwilling to detect the small amount of mutagen in each device. It buzzes and whirs anywhere near the box, but refuses to so much as blip when it is just a single container. I try to change my course of action. If I can't detect the mutagen inside the devices perhaps I can find a way to control the containers themselves. Despite April's insistence that it isn't necessary I keep the containers under glass while I work. I'm not going to risk spraying mutagen all over myself or the lab. The dispenser's trigger is easy enough to deduce. The notch in the side sets the mechanics into motion, whirring and trembling for 2.45 seconds before spraying mutagen in a four foot radius.

"There isn't an electronic power source," I murmur, after setting off the fifth device in a row. "It's a fixed cycle. You press the start here and it sets off a reaction that turns the gears and uncoils the spring to open the reservoir."

I sit back in my chair with a frown. "It's…it's not very Kraang like," I admit. "It's so…rudimentary. Only the metals are alien."

"Well, you could track electronics, right?" Mikey says, taking a loud, slurping sip of his hot chocolate. "Maybe they're trying to make something that can't be tracked."

April and I slowly turn to him in unison. "That's…I think you're right, Mikey," I say and he grins in response.

"Well, if we can't track them how are we supposed to destroy them?" April asks with a huff and pout.

"Too bad you can't just blow them up," Mikey says with another slurp of his drink.

_You can always blow something up. It's easier to tear down then to fix it. What blows up Kraang stuff?_

I drum the fingers of my uninjured hand on the desk and tap my foot in time. There's an answer here, there's always an answer. I just have to find it. I press my forehead against the glass and stare at the empty container and puddle of mutagen inside.

_Be still._

I close my eyes and take in a steadying breath. I try to ignore the persistent pain in my hand and the knowledge that April is sitting close enough to touch. I can do this, this is what I do.

_Breath, calm, be still. What explodes Kraang stuff?_

I live for the moment of discovery, for the breakthrough. When all of my hard work and struggle come together in a glorious heartbeat of understanding. It doesn't always happen. Most science experiments end in failure. So when it does occur I cling to it with manic delight and try to make it last as long as possible. It sets my hands shaking and my heart pounding in my chest. I push away from the desk and carefully remove one of the containers from the box. I slip it into the glass case before dropping into my chair and sliding over to my computer.

"Sound," I say in place of an actual explanation when I catch sight of both of them staring at me. "Mikey, when we were in Dimension X you used sound to control some of the environment."

"Yeah, but D. That place was upside down, crazy land. Yelling at the Kraang here doesn't do squat," he says, dipping his fingers into his drink in an ill-fated attempt to snag one of the disintegrating marshmallows.

"We're not going to yell," I reply, typing with wanton abandon. "The chemical makeup of these devices is entirely alien. It might not react as violently to sound as it would in Dimension X, but all we need is a fraction of that response to destroy the mechanism. I just have to find the right resonant frequency. The mechanics are so rudimentary and the coil is wound tight enough even a slight push should be enough to snap open the reservoir."

"And disperse the mutagen before it even reaches the population," April finishes.

"Exactly," I say with a grin. "We've used sound against Tiger Claw before. I should be able to change the sound cannon to a new frequency."

The trial and error takes longer than I would like and results in more than a few headaches and one stubbornly closed mutagen dispenser. I can sense the others getting frustrated. Mikey rolls his now-empty mug around on the floor beside him and April is resting her head atop her folded arms. I'm not so quick to give up or give in. Rome wasn't built in a day and scientific breakthroughs don't happen in minutes. If this was easy everyone would do it. I dial back the resonant frequency another decimal, marking the change on my growing chart of failures. I point the sound cannon at the glass box and try to sound optimistic.

"All right, here we go," I say, pressing down on the release button.

At first I think it is another failure. The frequency is too low for my own ears to detect so I can't be certain if the sound is even emanating. I sigh and turn towards the computer to mark the next frequency. A pop and hiss like the release of a soda can tab sounds louder than a gunshot and when I whirl around to stare at the glass case the inside is covered in a fine, green mist of mutagen.

_Eureka!_

"It worked," I breathe, completely aware that I sound as though I doubt it.

April lifts her head and Mikey lets the mug roll out of his reach.

"It worked," I say again.

I turn off the cannon and bolt over to the box, carefully placing another device into the glass case. I have to make sure it isn't a fluke. One success doesn't mean the experiment is over. It could have been a mistake, there are variables to consider. I close the case and position the cannon. I press the button and stare, unblinking at the metal square at the center. Two horribly, long seconds pass until there's a pop and hiss and mutagen oozes out of the now open reservoir.

"Ha!" I shout, pointing at no one in particular. "I am awesome!"

I'm not exactly at my most humble in the moment of discovery. I'm sure my boasting isn't attractive or entirely called for. I don't particularly care. I live for this. This is what I'm here for. This is what I do and no one can take that away from me.


	12. Chapter Twelve: Raphael

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A Raphael POV chapter. Full of self-loathing masquerading as Leo-loathing, punching things, misplaced anger, over-protective brotherly affection and Casey Jones bromancing.
> 
> Raph is a bit far from my comfort zone, but I gave it a shot and tried to scale back the vocabulary :0) Hope you enjoy it. Donnie will be back next chapter.

 

Chapter Twelve

Raphael

We've been sitting on this stupid roof for hours. The cold and rain have only gotten worse and our chances along with it. Leo is perched on the edge with his spyglass pressed to his eye. I don't know what he expects to see. Any sane person is inside, dry and warm. I punch my right fist into the palm of my left hand and pace the narrow pathway between air-conditioning units in an attempt to keep warm. I'm not sure if I even feel the cold anymore. Everything is a persistent sting.

_This is stupid._

"This is stupid, Leo," I say, punching my palm again. He ignores me and that all-too-familiar spark of anger ignites somewhere deep in my guts. "I said, this is stupid."

"I heard you the first twenty times," he replies and the calm tone of his words only fans the spark.

_He wouldn't be so smug if I shoved that spyglass…_

"We need to find that truck, Raphael," he interrupts my red-tinged thoughts. "We know this has been a Purple Dragon meeting place in the past. One of them will show if we're patient."

"So we just sit here and wait?" I ask. This is an argument we've had a hundred times. I could recite the steps in my sleep. That doesn't mean it isn't worth having. "Donnie is working on the tracker. We can wait back at the lair, where…"

"I don't want to depend on Donatello fixing the tracker," he says, interrupting me. "We need a contingency plan."

There's that spark again. It flashes bright and clouds my thoughts. "What is your problem?" I demand.

I punch my palm again and not for the first time imagine it's my brother's face. He lets out a sigh and slides the spyglass into his belt. It's like he's making every sound and body movement that he knows will only make me angrier.

"I don't have a problem," he says slowly.

"You coulda fooled me," I say with a sharp crack of my neck. "Some great leader you turned out to be. It's nice to know you have faith in us."

There's a slight flinch at the corner of his eyes. If you didn't have to look at his face every day you might not have noticed it. He tries to hide it. He always tries to hide it, from his enemies, from me, it's a physical response and that's the last thing he wants to show. Because it means my words hit home. It means I've gotten through that stoic demeanor he tries so hard to put up. He forgets that I know him. I know exactly what to say to make him angry. It's a game we've been playing for as long as I can remember and if you ask me I'm still the champion.

"I…of course I have faith in all of you," he says around a scoff as if my words are the most ridiculous thing he's ever heard. "That's not even a question."

He won't meet my eyes and I'm sure I have him cornered. "Not all of us though, am I right?" I insist, crossing the small distance between us to properly get in his space.

"What's this about, Raph?" he says, pushing back when I get too close. "If it's about Donnie…"

"Of course it's about Donnie," I snap, hitting his hand away with a closed fist. "You call him out here to take that tech apart when you don't even think he can do it. Why'd you bother dragging him out here if you're just going to cut him down?" I demand, pushing him with more strength behind the blow.

His back foot is firmly planted on the roof and he barely waivers. "I'm not cutting him down," he replies.

His face has fallen into a scowl. It's what I want. I want a fight. I push him again and hope that he pushes back so I have an excuse to hit something.

_I don't expect anything from you, Raphael._

"And you said it yourself. He should have been out here with us in the first place. Do you really think now is the best time for him to be off on his own?" Leo says. He raises his voice but doesn't go as far to raise a fist so I push him again.

Through the growing haze of anger over my thoughts one image stands out above the ringing in my ears and the pounding of my heart. It's April. Standing in her pajamas with my brother's mask wrapped tight around her wrist with tears in her eyes. Tears I put there. She deserved it. She deserves to be the heartbroken one for once. She cries and leads him on and maybe she does care about him, but there's only one way the whole thing is going to end. This is a cruel, angry world and it doesn't have room for happy endings. Not for things like us. She's going to hurt him and maybe next time he won't come back from it. I have to protect him even if he doesn't want me to. I have to protect all of them.

_I don't expect anything from you, Raphael._

"He wasn't exactly on his own, was he?" I ask, resisting the urge to wrap my fingers around the handle of a sai.

Leo blinks and the scowl disappears. "No," he replies, letting the word hang uncomfortably on the cold air. "But we're a team. We have responsibilities that have to come first. All of you need to realize that," he says and with those few words he's wearing his stoic leader mask again and I know a proper fight is no longer in the cards.

"You're right, Leo, you're always right. Nothing else matters except our responsibilities. Always work the mission, right?" I say, rolling my shoulders back and posturing.

There's a flinch at the corners of his eyes, but it's gone before it really begins and he turns his back on me. "Why don't you go back to the lair if you're cold," he says, not really making it a suggestion. "I'll keep watch."

I curl my fingers into a fist and feel the tremble reach up to my elbows. "Yeah, you do that," I mutter.

"He'll be fine, Raph," he says quietly without even the courtesy to turn around. "He always is. It just takes time. Don't try to force it."

"You just keep working the mission, Leo. Isn't that what's important?" I growl in response, diving off the ledge of the building into the stinging cold of the rain.

His words sound an awful lot like giving up to my ears and I don't have the patience to listen to any more of it. He thinks he understands. He doesn't, he never does. No one ever questions him. No one ever looks at him like there's something wrong. No one worries about him. He doesn't understand. He thinks everyone can just turn it off and work the mission. Don't think of anything or anyone. Just work the mission. Don't try to live your own life 'cause there are responsibilities in your way. Don't get angry. Don't try to have your own thoughts. 'Cause this is a team. Just work the mission. Fall in line. Do what you're told.

_Robot, brownnoser._

I'm lost in that place where my thoughts are covered in red and the need to hit something, to lash out, is so strong I think my heart might explode out of my chest. I never see it coming until it's too late. I should be able to see it coming. I should be able to stop it, but I can't and I don't and then all I see is red. Red, and April in her pajamas with tears in her eyes and my brother's mask wrapped around her wrist.

_I don't expect anything from you, Raphael._

I don't remember punching the wall, but I must have, because there is now a cracked indent in the bricks and pain, brighter than my anger is shooting up through my hand towards my elbow. It pulls me out of my haze, it usually does and I stand there panting, staring at my work. Shame usually follows the pain and flashes just as bright. I shouldn't let it get this far. I should have a handle on it by now. I do and I can't and everyone knows it. I pull my hand away from the wall and notice red splotches starting to blossom under the tape wrapped around my fingers.

"Whoa, Dude. Does that wall owe you money or something?"

I snap towards the voice, all coiled muscles ready to pounce. Casey holds his hands up with a nervous laugh and I feel that tension slide away with every cold drop of rain.

"Sorry," I grumble, rolling my shoulders and stretching out my aching fist. "Didn't hear, ya.'

"No worries, man," he replies, but keeps a respectful distance. "Things were getting a little too scientific down in the lair. Figured I'd help you and Leo bust some heads instead," he adds with a grin and a punch into his palm.

"I'm afraid there are no heads to bust," I reply with another careful flex of my hand.

"Is that why you were taking it out on that poor, defenseless wall?" he asks. He's teasing, but I know if anyone understands the need to hit something it's Casey Jones.

"Leo," is the only thing I need to say and he nods in understanding.

"Ya, know. Some day you two are really gonna fight this out," he says, dropping a puck to the ground and idly pushing it through puddles. "My money is on you if you're wondering."

"Mine too," I say with a snort and cuff to the back of his head. "Come on, let's get out of this rain. I'm freezing."

He flips the hockey stick into the bag he carries on his back and makes a half-hearted swing in my direction in retaliation. I easily dodge the blow and thwack him again for good measure. We take the slow, meandering route back to the lair. If Leo wants to sit out here all day in the rain staring at nothing he can be my guest. I drop down into the alley and wait for Casey to finish scaling the fire escape to the ground. He dusts off his hands and casts a nervous eye at the man-hole cover.

"Kind of a crazy day, huh?" he says with a sniff, wiping the rain from his face.

"No crazier than usual," I reply, uncertain where this is going and not liking being kept in the dark.

He's fidgety and nervous and avoiding my gaze. "So, uh, Donnie and April?"

There it is.

"Yeah," I reply, not bothering to deny or add any additional thoughts on the matter.

"It's, well it's weird, right?" he says around a nervous laugh. "I mean, what is she thinking? How is that going to play out?"

_Do you honestly think I don't know it probably won't work out?_

He's looking for an ally. He's looking for a friend and he thinks he has one in me. I hate all three of them for putting me in the middle of this.

"What do you mean, exactly?" I ask.

I'm aware of how even my voice is. How it isn't the tone of a friend or an ally, but someone looking for a fight. He takes a step back and blinks.

"Well, come on, man. I mean, no offense, but they're not even the same species," he rambles on quickly when it's clear that line of thought does nothing but offend me. "And even if they were, I mean, come on. Donatello? He's a huge nerd. She could do so much better. What could she possibly see in him?"

_You're my brother. You're supposed to take my side._

"You don't…want to talk about him like that… in front of me," I say and he looks shocked at the anger behind my words.

I can feel it start to spark to life again and even worse I can see it reflected in his eyes when he settles into a glare. "Dude, you call him a nerd all the time," he says with an accusing point.

"That ain't the same thing," I say with a shake of my head even though it kinda is and guilt isn't too far behind my anger.

_You're my brother. You're supposed to take my side._

"Like hell it isn't," he says with another bitter laugh. "You're supposed to be my friend, Dude…"

"I am your friend, you idiot," I snap, pushing him backwards. "But he's my brother and if I gotta take sides in all of this. I'm on his. It ain't gonna work out between them, it can't, but if I find out the reason it doesn't is you, you're gonna regret it."

There it is. All laid out without any way to take it back. I don't want to take it back. It's the truth. He shakes his head and pulls his hood up against the rain.

"Whatever, man," he grumbles, turning to leave.

He was looking for a friend, an ally and I only gave him an enemy.

"Casey."

He stops and I clear my throat. It's a poor attempt to hide the tremble in my voice so I try for a second time with little success. "I'm sorry. I know ya like her."

His shoulders tense for a few breaths until they drop with a sigh and there's defeat in his voice. "Yeah…I do," he quickly laughs it off. I understand. I don't like people thinking I'm weak either. "But hey, just means I get to play the field now, right? Should be fun."

"Huh, yeah, should be," I say with a drop of my own shoulders and an equally unconvincing laugh.

"There are some rink rats that are always hanging around practice. I'm sure they'd be an easy drop," he says with a ridiculous grin that makes me snort out a laugh.

"Classy," I say, punching him in the shoulder.

He laughs and takes a swing at me. I let him hit me this time. It's not like he could hurt me. We exchange a few more punches.

"It's getting late," he says, trying to land the last punch. "I better get going."

"Yeah, you wouldn't want to get grounded," I reply, punching his arm hard enough to send him stumbling forward.

"Shut up," he says, but there's an easy laugh behind his words.

"Are we all right?" I ask before I can stop myself.

He makes a noise halfway between a laugh and a sigh. "Yeah, we're all right," he says, darting forward to punch me again. "Don't cry about it, ya big softy."

He takes off at a run and snaps out the rollerblades on the bottom of his shoes and skates like something is chasing him; cackling like a maniac the whole time.

"Idiot," I mutter around a snort of a laugh before dropping down into the sewer.

It's been a long day. I'm cold and wet and all I want is to go home.


	13. Chapter Thirteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back to Donnie POV

 

Chapter Thirteen

"Hissss, pop!" Michelangelo cries out, laughing and slapping his knee when the Kraang device pops open and mutagen oozes out. "I could do this all day," he says, sliding over to the box to grab another. "Seriously, Donnie, why isn't all science this fun?"

"Just make sure you're getting as much mutagen as you can into the jar," I reply with a rub of my eyes and a wave towards the glass container now half-full of collected mutagen.

"You need to get your priorities straight," he teases with a smirk, positioning the sound cannon near the glass. "Hisss, pop!"

It's the eventual come down from the high of discovery. My endorphins crash and my mood crashes along with them. My heart isn't racing and excitement no longer takes center stage. Without the welcomed distraction I'm painfully aware of the physical. More specifically, the maddening throb of pain emitting from my right hand. I try to shake out the offending digit with nothing but another low tremor of discomfort for my troubles. I should have taken it easy for a while, let the injury rest and heal, but I didn't have time for that and now I'm going to pay for it.

"Does your hand hurt still?" April asks, even though it's quite obvious it does.

"Y-yeah," I say with another shake and grimace. "It'll calm down, just need to rest it a bit."

"Right, because that's likely to happen," she says and her teasing smile makes my face burn.

"You sure it's safe to trust Mikey with that thing?" Raph asks.

He pushes open the lab door with a cringe-worthy squeal. The sound of his voice is enough to cool the growing blush across my face. His skin is still wet from the rain and he shakes off not unlike a dog.

"Hey, man, I'm like the best with this thing," Mikey replies, lifting his chin and resting a hand proudly on his upper plastron. "Watch this," he makes a big show of pushing the button and then grins excitedly when his current target pops open. "Hiss, pop, Dude."

"Uh huh," Raph says, but stops short of rolling his eyes. "So…you're just opening them?" he asks, turning his attention and most likely disapproval in my direction. "Thought you were working on the tracker."

"The tracker won't work," April says and I'm sure I look surprised that she answered for me. "Donnie figured out we can destroy them using sound instead."

She sounds fiercely proud and it makes my blush burn back to life. Raphael steadies his gaze on her and moves his jaw like he's chewing. He doesn't look amused. Although to be accurate, he almost never does. I prepare myself for a fight and I stand, shocked when it doesn't transpire.

"Sounds good to me," he replies with a shrug. "Nice job, Donnie."

Wait…what?

_He still thinks you're going to freak out at any moment._

"Um, thanks, Raph," I say, too tired for a fight or to fling accusations.

"You and Leo find the truck?" Mikey asks, sifting through the box for his next target.

Raph rolls his shoulders and cracks his neck. So, the two of them had a fight. I shouldn't be surprised it's usually a drawn out conclusion when they're alone for any length of time.

"Nah, nobody showed," he says, his eyes darting for the door. "Leo is gonna stay out a little while longer."

"By himself?" Mikey asks with a frown. "Is that safe?"

"It's just the Purple Dragons, Mikey. I think Leo can handle it," he snaps in reply. His shoulders tense and his hands instantly ball into fists at his sides. "I…I'm gonna go clean up. Call me if something interesting happens," he adds with a growl before stalking out of the lab.

_It must be exhausting being that angry all the time._

"I was just asking, geez," Mikey mutters.

He only lets Raph's temper dampen his mood for a few seconds. By the time he sets up his next victim he's all smiles again. Cleaning up might not be a bad idea. I've been wearing these gloves for hours now and I should probably change the dressing over my wound. It's an innocent movement, nothing taxing or strenuous. I reach up with my left hand to pull the glove from my right without any extra force than is needed to complete the task. Regardless, the stiff leather rakes over the bandages covering my thumb and I see stars.

I don't think the word pain does it justice and agony doesn't seem entirely appropriate either. It's bright and sudden and catches me so by surprise I can't help but make a strangled noise from my throat. I pitch forward and grip my hand tightly to my upper plastron, afraid to move, afraid to look. The initial shock ebbs somewhat, but the increased sensation is far from gone. It comes in fast waves and reaches its tendrils up to my shoulder. Pain isn't the right word, but it's the closest I have to accuracy. The one thing I'm certain of is that something is wrong.

"Donnie, are you okay?" April asks.

She's by my side with her arm around my shoulder and her hand resting on my arm. I don't have the composure to focus on her touch. I'm too busy trying to get a breath in past my clenched teeth. She tries to pull my left hand away, to get a better look at my injury but I stumble away from her; keeping it hidden.

"S'fine," I lie, turning my body to keep out of her reach. "I just…bumped it," I swallow back an unrelenting wave of nausea. "I'm just…I need to…I should clean it. S'fine."

"It's cause I did the stitches wrong, isn't it?" Mikey asks, his new found enjoyment of science forgotten. "I told you not to have me do it."

"No, the stitches are fine, Mikey," I insist. "I just bumped it. It's fine."

The initial shock has faded to an unhappy memory and I manage to take in a deep breath. I glance towards the lab door, my hand still clutched to my chest. I don't want either of them to see this. It's probably infected. I need to take off the bandage, irrigate the wound and maybe have Master Splinter take out the stitches. I'm not about to ask Mikey to do it. Not with the way guilt is making him almost unrecognizable at the moment.

"I have to clean it," I say again, taking less-than steady steps towards the door.

"Donnie…"

I ignore her. I shouldn't. I'm sure she's just concerned, but if my thumb is infected I don't want her to see it. I hurry to the bathroom, only letting out another held breath when the door closes behind me and I slide the lock into place. The overhead lights flicker and the shower head drips out an echoing pattern across the tile floor.

_If this was a horror movie you'd be dead right about now._

I laugh, the noise sounding entirely off-putting in the dreary bathroom. It's not really funny, but I laugh just the same. I think I may be running a fever. Leaning my hips against the counter I take in a few steadying breaths. I'm afraid to look at my hand. For all my posturing that I didn't want Mikey and April to see it, the real thing I didn't want them to see was my reaction. Something is wrong and I'm afraid to look.

_Could be interesting though? Could be something new?_

There is that, I suppose. The one bright spot that maybe, just maybe I was about to see something new or at the very least learn something. I pry my left hand away and rest my right on the cool surface of the counter. The movement brings another wave of pain and I grit my teeth against it. The bandage is still in place, although I can see dark and ominous splotches fighting to seep up through the gauze.

_This isn't going to be pretty. Please…just don't let there be bugs._

The medical tape at the edge of the bandage is already losing its adhesiveness. I hope it makes unwrapping my thumb easier. I take hold of the tape and pull it free. I see stars, burning, stabbing, vindictive stars. There's no going back now and I start to unwrap the bandage. The gauze has started to fuse with my skin and when I pull it free it takes a thin layer of skin and something slimy and unpleasant with it. It smells. It's acrid and almost…mechanical and it turns my insides until I'm throwing up whatever small amount of food is in my stomach.

_Nice going, Genius._

I grip the edge of the sink with my good hand until I'm certain I'm done retching. I take in a slow breath through my nose and force open my eyes. The thumb is swollen, the stitches cutting into the flesh surrounding the initial wound. The swelling doesn't concern me. I expected that. What I didn't expect was for the skin of my thumb to have turned black. The color travels outward through the veins in my hand and the wound oozes a sickly green substance. This is not how infections are supposed to work. This is new. This is wrong. Fascinating.

_Fascinating? What is wrong with you? You're going to throw up again._

I clench my jaw and struggle to turn on the faucet with my other hand. This is going to hurt. This is going to hurt a lot. I push my hand under the water before I lose my nerve. My expectations do not disappoint. The shock of it almost sends me to my knees and my left hand gripping the sink is all that keeps me upright. I scream. I don't mean to. I don't want to, but the guttural sound rips from my throat the instant the warm water touches my flesh.

My vision blurs and for a brief, delirious moment I think the water somehow morphed into fire because it is most assuredly burning me. I scramble to turn off the faucet, but settle for sliding to the floor instead, once again clutching my arm to my chest. I think I throw up again, but I can't be certain. I can't be certain of anything. I press my back against the cold tile wall and struggle to find a breath around my closed throat. A loud, deliberate sound breaks through the fog of pain. It's steady and angry and if a sound was Raphael this sound would definitely be him. Another inappropriate laugh rips from my throat…or maybe I just imagined it.

"Donnie!"

_How does the angry sound know your name?_

"Open the damn door!"

_Don't move. Its vision is probably based on movement._

"Donatello, open the damn door or I'm breaking it down!"

I think someone breaks down the door. They must have, because there's a hand on my shoulder and another on my face.

"S'fine," I mutter, trying to push the hands away.

_Stop moving! It'll see you!_

I think I'm delirious.

"What the hell is wrong with your hand?"

"Get away," I grumble in reply. I try to scoot away but my legs won't cooperate and the hand on my shoulder is keeping me firmly planted where I sit. "S'fine."

"It ain't fine, stop saying that. Mikey, go get Master Splinter. Don't argue with me, just go!"

The fire is starting to cool and my breaths come with something resembling regularity. I blink back the tears in my eyes and am suddenly aware of the bitter taste of sick in my mouth. Raphael comes in to focus. He's kneeling beside me, his green eyes wide with fear. I must have screamed louder than I thought. Behind him I can see the broken bathroom door hanging on its shattered hinges and April lingering just inside it her face pale.

"Sorry," I mumble, pausing to swallow back another wave of nausea. "I thought…I thought water would help."

"What the hell, Don?" Raph says. "You're hand...it…"

He doesn't finish, but he doesn't have to. I know I saw it for myself.

"Must have been something on the metal. Don't…don't let Mikey touch anymore of the containers," I say, taking in a sharp breath through my nose.

"Right, yeah of course," he says with a hurried nod. "What do you need me to do? What do I do?"

He sounds close to panic and it isn't a comforting thing to hear. I try to unclench the fist I have pressed against my chest, but somehow the pressure on the wound seems to keep some of the more bright flashes of pain at bay so I decide against it. I close my eyes and take in another breath.

_Be still._

"I just…I just need to sit here for a minute," I explain.

The weight of his hand on my shoulder is starting to cause its own discomfort and I stop short of tearing away from his touch. He's trying to be a comfort.

"Some water?" I ask and as soon as the request passes my lips it is all I can think about.

"Right, yeah, of course," he says with a quick nod. "I'll get ya some water. April, sit with him until I get back."

I breathe a sigh of relief when the weight is lifted from my shoulder and chance a look up at April as she sits down beside me. She's as equally worried as my brother, but she wears it differently. She's ashen and wide-eyed with her lips pressed in a thin line. I don't want her to worry. It makes my stomach squirm to see her worry.

"It doesn't…hurt as much now," I say, which isn't a complete lie. "I'm sorry I…startled you guys. I didn't know the water would do that."

She nods, moving closer until she's pressed up against me. I can feel the heat radiating off of her and it isn't until that moment that I realize how cold I must be. She looks over my thumb and hand with growing concern, but keeps from touching the afflicted hand for which I am grateful.

"Those stitches will have to come out," she says regretfully.

_She knows how much it's going to hurt._

"Was it, did it look like this before?" she asks quietly.

She doesn't want to sound accusing. I wouldn't blame her if she did. Hiding an injury does seem like something I would do. Injuries get in the way. Injuries keep you from your work.

I shake my head. "No, it was…it was just a little cut. Two stitches, nothing."

She bites her bottom lip and more than a few unwholesome thoughts pass through my pain-addled mind at the sight of it. I laugh and the sound does nothing but make her look more worried.

"Taken down…by an alien paper cut," I say around another disconcerting chuckle because it is so ridiculous.

I'm a highly trained martial artist. I might not be as good as my brothers, but that still puts me above a great deal of people. This is not how I'm supposed to go down. We're supposed to go down fighting, out in a blaze of glory. Not crouched on the bathroom floor with a oozing cut bringing me to my knees. It's not even a stab or something impressive. I didn't even notice when it happened. It's ridiculous and so I chuckle again. April takes hold of my face and her worried look is replaced by that stubborn narrowing of her eyes I love and fear in equal measure.

"You're not down," she says and the strength in her words cuts off another laugh before it begins. "We'll figure this out and everything will be all right. You're not giving up already are you?"

_Pathetic, Coward._

"No," I say with a slight shake of my head. The pain dulls enough where I can almost get my wits about me. "We'll figure it out."

She smiles, her hands still warm and soft against my face. She leans in and I'm afraid she's going to kiss me so I turn my head away. Hurt is sudden and horrible across her eyes and I explain in a mush of words and stammers.

"N-no…I…I mean. I threw up."

She blinks and then the smile is back along with that blush I love so much. "Always the gentleman," she says with a quiet laugh behind her words.

She does lean in and kiss the top of my head and it tingles and makes me wish for a toothbrush. She pulls back slightly and I catch a glimpse of the hem of Master Splinter's robe as he glides over. April moves to give him room and I take in a hiss through my teeth when he takes hold of my arm by the elbow. He is trying to be gentle, he is gentle. It hurts just the same. His brow is furrowed and I think I spot anger in his eyes. I can't be sure in the dim light and the increased throb of pain from even the slight movements.

"I need to remove these stitches," he finally says. "Are you able to stand, my son?"

I don't get a chance to try on my own. Raphael is already at my side, draping my good arm over his shoulders and heaving me up to standing. The world spins and I'm all awkward, gangly limbs with feet that refuse to do the one thing feet are meant to do. I lean on my brother and can hear the tiny grunt of struggle to keep me upright. His shoulders tense, he doesn't waiver and after a few slow breaths the pain has dimmed to a more manageable level and I get my feet beneath me to alleviate some of my weight from his carry.

"We're just going to the lab," Raphael says. "You can do that right?"

"Y-yeah," I say with a nod. "I'll race you," I add with a snort of a laugh.

_What is wrong with you?_

I think he rolls his eyes. I can practically feel him roll his eyes. "Let's make it out of the bathroom first, hotshot."

The first few steps are the epitome of struggle and I lean on him more than I would like to. I might be slender in comparison to my brothers but my added height does not make me light by any stretch of the imagination. Raphael is strong, but dead weight is dead weight and it doesn't make dragging me across the tiled floor an easy task. Master Splinter walks behind us, keeping close. He won't let us fall. He'll catch us.


	14. Chapter fourteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: A little break from the norm with this chapter. Each brother gets a section. I tried to make each one have their own individual voice as best I could. This chapter is also a touch heavy on the angst. I might have to write a fluffy one shot just to brighten the mood. :0)

 

Chapter Fourteen

**Donatello**

The lights in my lab should never be this bright. I don't know why Master Splinter has all of them on. It seems like a waste of energy. Not that we pay for it. Where do you send an electric bill when you don't have an address? That's not the point. This amount of light is too much, it's wasteful. We all have to do our part to live green.

_You're hilarious._

Whoever is sitting beside me doesn't think so, because there's a gentle 'shush,' in my ear and a cold, wet cloth pressed to my forehead when I try to laugh. I don't know why they're doing that. I'm cold enough already. What I could really use is a nice, warm, flat rock in the sunshine, maybe in the middle of a nice pond.

Wait…what?

I blink back the glaring light and try to make my vision snap to focus using sheer force of will alone. I don't like not knowing what's going on and I won't deduce anything with my eyes closed. The light is so bright I can't see anything beyond a couple feet. There is red hair and pale skin and the scent of wildflowers. The gentle voice beside me is April.

_Of course it is. Who else would it be?_

I'm lying down. I don't remember that happening but it must have. I'm on a table in my lab with the world's thinnest pillow under my head and April at my side. Other people shouldn't be in my lab unsupervised. They don't know where things go. They'll mess up my system. April takes the cloth from my forehead and my skin is instantly ablaze. I must make a noise because she's hushing me again and I think she's crying.

_Nice going. You made her cry._

The angry thud from the bathroom is back, its tenor ringing throughout my aching head. This time it has brought a friend. It's not as deep and resonant as the original, but it's just as angry and equally unrelenting. I cringe and this time I feel the tiny moan move past my lips.

"Shh, it's all right," April says.

I don't know why she is whispering when she's already so far away.

"Master Splinter is going to take the stitches out. It'll hurt less after. Everything is going to be all right."

We'll figure it out _._

_You're not figuring anything out. You're lying here like a whimpering baby while April cries and Raph and Leo yell at each other._

When did Leo get here?

April's face comes into focus and she reapplies the cold cloth to my head. The chill travels through my entire body and I can feel a tremble start in my toes and work its way up to my shoulders. I need to move. I need to do something. I can't be still.

"Whoa, whoa, easy, Don," Raphael exclaims and he's pushing me back against the table before I can convince my feet to swing to the floor.

_Raphael telling you to take it easy. That's hysterical._

I say as much with a chuckle that is more like a cough, only to be pushed back down again for my efforts. I don't know why his hand is so heavy. Hands shouldn't be that heavy, it isn't natural. I blink and squirm with very little success. There's a flash of blue nearby and soon another cold and heavy hand is on my opposite shoulder. They're trying to keep me still. I can't be still. I have to fix this. Why don't they understand that?

"Donnie, hey, I need you to focus here."

_I'll give you focus._

"Donatello, look at me."

_He's always so bossy. No wonder Raph wants to punch him most of the time._

"Donatello."

"Wh-what?" I demand.

At least I think I do. I don't entirely recognize that raspy voice as my own. They have me by the shoulders, neither one of them exerting much force to keep me pinned. Leo has his stern leader face on and I'm too tired to even consider arguing with whatever he has to say.

"I need you to stop moving, all right? Can you do that?"

_Be still._

"I need…I need to…do something," I reply.

It's not an argument, just a statement of fact. I have to do something. I have to fix this. It's what I do.

"I know, I know you do and you can, just not right now. Right now you have to lie still so we can get these stitches out of your hand. After that you can move. I promise."

I nod in agreement. It seems like a fair enough deal. Raph looks worried. He probably thinks Leo won't stay true to his word. He will. I'm pretty sure he will.

"Good, excellent," Leo says and his hand squeezes my shoulder. "I'm going to tie your wrist to the table, all right? It might hurt but we have to make sure you don't move when Sensei takes out the stitches. Do you understand?"

_Why is he talking to you like you're an idiot? Of course you understand. They're the ones who never understand._

"Y-yeah, I understand," I reply around a cough. "Make sure…make sure he wears gloves," I insist because they don't understand. They never understand. "Don't touch…don't touch the wound."

"He will and we won't," Leo says and I believe him.

Why would he lie? What would he have to gain? I hear the tightened pull of leather before I feel the strap close in around my wrist. The underside must be made of razor blades because it feels as though the belt might cut straight through to the bone. I told them I would be still, but it isn't a promise I can keep. There are strong hands on my shoulders and my legs. I shouldn't be able to shake loose from their grip. It's too strong and I'm too tired. But pain is a funny thing and it gives me strength in that moment of sheer panic and the blinding desire to get away from the cause of my agony.

I don't know how long I thrash and try to escape. It could have been a few seconds or maybe a few days. The blades must have fallen out because the stabbing in my wrist subsides to the more familiar constant throb from my hand and the weight on my legs lessens somewhat. None of my captors leave entirely, but at least now I can draw a breath and wiggle my stiff joints.

"M'sorry," I mumble, although I don't know exactly why I'm apologizing or who I'm apologizing to. It just feels like something that needs to be said.

"It is all right, my son. This will all be over soon," Master Splinter says and I want to believe him more than I have ever wanted to believe anyone in my entire life.

I don't know when my father entered the room, but I'm glad he's here. Maybe he was always there. I don't have time to ponder. He's going to cut out the stitches in my thumb. It's going to hurt…a lot. I promised I would be still. It's not a promise I can keep. My brothers are on me again and this time I give them more of a fight. I don't want to. I want to be still. I want to be stoic and composed like Sensei wishes I was. I can't be still. It hurts.

**Michelangelo**

He's screaming again. No matter how hard I press my hands to my ears I can still hear him screaming. They're supposed to be helping him. Master Splinter said he was going to help him. If they're helping him why is he screaming like that? That's not what help sounds like. That's what pain sounds like. I've heard it enough in my life to know it when I hear it.

They waited for Leo to get back before they started. Nobody said it but they didn't want to depend on me to help. I've done enough already. I told Donnie not to trust me with the stitches. I told him I would just mess it up. He wouldn't listen. They never listen to me. He didn't listen and I messed everything up. He didn't listen and now he's screaming like someone is cutting his hand off and it's my fault. I messed it up. I told him I would.

I press my hands against my head and close my eyes tight until they start to water at the edges. He's going to be fine. Master Splinter will know what to do and Leo is back. They'll clean up the mess and Donnie will be just fine. He has to be. We're a team and he was finally starting to get somewhere with April. He has to be all right. I need him to be all right. We're a team.

The screaming has stopped and I slowly peel my hands away from my ears, taking my time in case it's just a brief pause in the horrible noise. The silence isn't much better. My head is ringing and my palms are covered in sweat. I wipe them on my bedspread and swing my feet to the ground, straining to hear anything beside the dull thud of my heart and the constant tick of the clock over my bed. Nothing.

I should go check on him. If it was me Donnie would go check on me. He'd fix me. He'd fix any of us. He wouldn't be hiding in his room with his hands pressed to his ears and the covers over his head. I walk on legs that kinda tremble. The hallway outside my bedroom is dark and deserted. Everyone else is helping. Everyone else is trying to clean up this mess. I can see the thin beam of light shining out from the lab door. If I stay out of its view this might not be real. I grip the edge of the metal door and peer inside. No one will notice me. They're busy.

He's not screaming anymore. He's not moving either. I take in a sharp breath, letting it out just as quickly when I see his chest rise and fall. He's all right. He's not…the bad thing. He's just sleeping. He's sleeping and he'll wake up soon and Master Splinter has got this. I shouldn't have doubted him. He'd never let anything bad happen to us. He's standing by the head of the table, blocking Donnie's hand from view. That's fine. I already saw it. I don't need to see it again; all black and oozing and clutched in pain.

April looks up and her eyes are red-rimmed and still full of tears. She spots me and I start to lose it. I hate seeing other people cry. Especially my family and April is family. I can feel the tremble in my jaw and the burning, push behind my eyes. She crosses the distance between us to hug me. It's warm and more than a little desperate. She can hug me as hard as she likes. I understand. I'd grip her just as tight if I wasn't afraid of breaking her ribs.

"Is…is he better?" I ask, proud that I manage to keep my voice from shaking.

"Everything will be all right," April replies, her voice muffled by my shoulder.

I don't know if she says it to answer my question or if she just has to say it out loud to believe it herself. I don't care. I'm glad she says it and I'm going to believe her. I have to believe her, because everyone has to be all right. Donnie has to be all right. I need him to be all right.

**Leonardo**

My hands threaten to tremble with each passing second. I can't let them. I won't let them. I need to be strong for my brothers. I need to be steady. Falling to pieces won't help anything. The stitches are out. That was the hard part. Holding him down while he screamed and kicked and begged for Sensei to stop; that was the hard part. Now Donnie can rest and when he wakes up he'll fix this. He'll figure this out. I glance around the lab. I don't know why I bother. I don't know what half this stuff is, let alone how any of it can help my brother.

Raph is still standing by Donnie's feet. He's silent for once; his face ashen and his eyes down-turned. He won't stay silent for long. There's a shift, almost a smell in the air, like electricity. The muscles in his shoulders tense and his hands curl into fists atop the table. His eyes narrow and I follow his gaze to Donnie's right hand, still held down by a leather strap. The wound is open and weeping now, even after Master Splinter cleaned it. The skin of his hand and half-way up his forearm is black and cracks at the slightest movement. The hard part isn't over. Not by a long shot.

"What do we do now?" Raph asks and there's anger and resentment behind the question.

He'll pick a target for that anger soon enough. It might as well be me.

"We wait," I say, not surprised when his nostrils flair in response. "Let him rest."

"We wait?" he parrots my own words back to me and I square my shoulders, ready for an argument. "In case you haven't noticed, Leo whatever was in that container or on it is eating away at his hand. Who knows what else it's doing to him and it's only getting worse. Do you expect us to just sit back and watch it happen?"

Michelangelo makes a pained noise in his throat and I let my eyes flicker over to him for a split second. He's watching, with April still pulled close to his side. They're both watching, waiting for me to respond. Waiting for me to come up with a better plan; any plan. I don't have one. I don't have anything. Master Splinter's hand closes around my shoulder and I sway from the unexpected weight of it.

"That is enough, Raphael," he says quietly.

"But, Sensei…"

"I said that is enough," he says again, stopping my brother short of further argument. "Your brother needs to rest. We will keep watch over him and when he wakes we will decide what to do next."

Raph looks as though he might punch the table, but thinks better of it and holds his shaking fist firmly at his side. The electricity is back in the air and I wouldn't be surprised if he finds another route to an argument, to confrontation. He wants something he can yell at, something he can hit. I understand. No one likes feeling helpless and that's exactly what all of us are. We're going at this blindly and the lack of any real plan is only proof of that. We need Donnie's help.

"Hai, Sensei," he mutters, turning away from the table with a heaving breath and coiled shoulders.

Mikey steps out of the way to let him pass, steering April along with him. No one follows him out of the lab. He won't go far.

"Leonardo."

Master Splinter's hand is still on my shoulder and when he says my name I understand what he wants from me. I don't want to go after my brother. I'm too tired for a fight, but he shouldn't be alone right now. He won't welcome my company. I'm sure he'll try to blame me for what happened. I don't want to hear it, but Sensei wants me to go after him. I have to be strong. I have to be steady. No one likes feeling helpless.

**Raphael**

Sit around and do nothing. That's the great plan from our fearless leader. Wait for something worse to happen. Wait for his whole arm to turn black or for the fever to cook his brain. Wait until it's too late and there's no turning back. I can't do that. I won't do that. I'm supposed to protect them. How can I protect someone from this? My fist connects with the practice dummy and the whole metal frame shakes down to its bolts. I hit it again and again. I hit it until I lose count and an ache starts to settle on my arms and still I hit it again.

"Raphael."

It's Leo. Of course it's Leo. I'm sure he has some lecture about calm and patience all ready to go and the thought of his words only makes me punch harder. I don't want to hear it. I don't want to hear him. I'm in the red place. It's all I can do to keep breath going in and out of my lungs. I don't have time for lectures. I don't need lectures. There isn't anything he can say to make this better.

"Raphael."

"Shut it, Leo," I growl. "I don't wanna hear it."

There's a twitch at the corner of his eye. He doesn't try to hide it and I don't know what to do with it right out in the open like that. He's supposed to hide it. I stop mid-swing, the practice dummy creaks and groans as it settles back to center. Leo's shoulders slump and he sits on the steps a few feet from me. He doesn't lecture. He doesn't give me his disappointed look. He sits and stares at the beam of light creeping out from around the door to Donnie's lab.

"I don't…I don't know what to do," he says with a sigh.

He keeps staring straight ahead, his mouth set in a firm line. The red leaves my vision, but I still can't get my breaths to even out. I sit beside him and curl my hands into fists. I drill my fingers into the palms of my hands until it hurts; the pain distracting my thoughts for a few glorious seconds. It doesn't last, just like the anger didn't last and I'm left with the uneasy quiet and the ringing in my ears from my brother's screams.

"We can't…we can't just sit here and do nothing," I insist, digging my heel into the concrete of the steps. "If it was one of us…"

"He'd already have fixed it," Leo stops me short and the firm line of his jaw wavers. "He would know what to do."

I push to my feet and start pacing in a sharp, angry closed circuit. "If we can't fix this ourselves then…then we have to find someone who can," I say.

Leo looks doubtful. "What are you talking about?"

"Those Purple Dragon losers were transporting this stuff. I say we go make them tell us where they got it," I insist, rolling my shoulders in anticipation of a fight.

"The Kraang…" he starts to reply and I can sense the doubt starting to form behind the words. I can't listen to that. I have to do something.

"Then we find one of them and make them talk. They brought the mutagen here. They'll know how to fix this. We can make them fix this," I say. I wince at the desperation in my voice and my shoulders drop. "They…they need to pay."

He's going to lecture me. He's going to tell me I'm being impulsive, ridiculous, and desperate. All of that might be true, but I don't need to hear it. I turn towards him, the red place is waiting and I can feel it reaching up from the pit of my stomach. It makes my hands shake and every muscle in my body tense. Leonardo hasn't moved from his place on the steps. He hasn't moved but everything about him is different.

"They will," he says and he's with me.

He understands. He knows we have to do something; the only something we can do. We'll make them pay for hurting our brother.


	15. Chapter Fifteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Author Notes: Back to Donnie POV. I wanted to make this chapter fluffy...that didn't happen. Some gross times ahead :0)
> 
> Thanks again for the comments, I really enjoy reading them.

 

Chapter Fifteen

It's cold. Why is it so cold? I fall asleep for a few minutes and they let the heating system break? That could take days to fix. I'll have to fix it. It can't be this cold forever. It should be warmer…and brighter. It was bright before, too bright and too loud. Now it's cold and dark and very quiet. I'm not sure which is worse.

_Your eyes are closed, of course it's dark._

My thoughts sound far away and muffled, but they're not wrong. I try to open my eyes. I don't want to be in the dark anymore. It shouldn't be this difficult. In the grand scheme of things there aren't that many muscles involved. It shouldn't be this difficult. I groan from the struggle of it. The tiny sound echoes in the silence and makes my head ache. I don't give up and eventually I manage to lift my eyelids. Everything is a blur, but at least it isn't dark anymore.

"Whoa, easy, Bro. Don't try to move, all right?"

"M-Mikey?"

It hurts to talk. My voice is little more than a barely coherent rasp and I groan when the few syllables are enough to send a searing scrape of pain down my throat. Why does my throat hurt so much? Oh, right…the screaming. The last few hours come back to me in bits and pieces. There was yelling and my whole family was there…April was there and there was pain. There's a hand on my shoulder and the cold skin starts a tremble through my body that makes me grind my teeth. Why is it so cold?

"Co…cold," I rasp through my teeth, trying to blink away the persistent blur to my vision.

"Cold? You're cold? Okay, I'll get you a blanket. I can do that. Hang on, I'll get you a blanket," Mikey says, lifting his hand from my shoulder.

He's all quick words and nervous catches of breath. He sounds scared. I don't want him to be scared. I should sit up, show him I'm all right and that there's nothing to be afraid of. Just sit up; nothing to it. I sit up every day.

_Just use your core; lean back on your elbows if you have to. Why is this so difficult?_

I haven't moved at all. Not even close. It's taking most of my concentration to keep my eyes open, so sitting up is entirely out of the question. Mikey drapes a blanket over me and I've never been more grateful for anything in my life. It feels heavier than a blanket should, but I don't care. It's warm and soft and warm. It's making it more difficult to keep my eyes open, but I won't close them.

"Thanks," I murmur, the word ending in a scratchy cough.

"Do you want some water?" Mikey asks and his hand is back on my shoulder.

I can feel the coldness of it even through the blanket. I nod, not wanting to risk speaking again. He leaves my side again and off in the distance I can hear him clanging around followed by the rushing sound of running water. I try to clear my vision. Somehow I manage to snake my left hand up to rub my eyes. The small movement sends a twinge of pain through the right side of my body. It's only a twinge and I try to ignore it. I need to…I need to clear my head. I have things to fix.

"Do you want to sit up?"

April. It's April. Her hand lingers on the side of my face and unlike my brother her skin is warm against my own. She smells like wildflowers and I lean into the small touch. I wish I was back at her apartment with that awful movie playing in the background and her hands…elsewhere.

_Maybe you still are. Maybe you fell asleep and this is all just some horrible nightmare._

The pain is too present, too visceral for this to be anything but reality. I can't slip into wishes and hopes now. I have a job to do and I'm not going to get anywhere lying down. I nod in response to her question. They're both there at my side and I brace myself for the inevitable pain movement causes. I bite my bottom lip and feel my stomach give a worrisome roll as they lift me up to sitting. I dry heave. I can't help it. Luckily there is nothing left in my stomach to throw up. The nausea fades to a more manageable queasiness and I lean on Mikey until I think it's safe to take a breath.

"You gonna blow chunks, man?"

"Mikey," April snaps.

I'm glad she took my need to respond. Mikey's question is enough to set my stomach rolling again. She moves her hand in calming circles along my carapace and the pressure is the best thing I've felt in hours. Mikey tenses alongside me and I can almost make out a pout on his blurry face.

"I was just asking, 'cause if he is gonna get sick, I'd go get a bucket…"

"Please stop…talking about…vomit," I plead.

I clamp my mouth shut as another wave of nausea moves my shoulders forward and my stomach in. April circles her hand again and I put all of my focus into that touch. The feel of it is far away, more pressure than any real sensation that skin to skin would cause. It's enough. It isn't pain or nausea and I cling to that feeling until my stomach settles and the pain slows.

"Sure thing, man," Mikey says, nothing but apologetic. "Let's try to get some water in ya, all right?"

He holds a glass up to my mouth and I caution a small sip. It's cold and wet and I'm coughing before I can take another mouthful. I'm not going to give up that easily, even as the coughing jars my hand and sends another stab of pain, blinding and lightening quick coursing through my body. I reach up with my left hand to take hold of the glass. Mikey tries to shoo away my grasping fingers, but I'm persistent and he finally relents. I drink down the entire glass. I'm not sure how long it takes me. Longer than it should I'm sure. He doesn't rush me and when I've finished he takes the glass.

"Better?" he asks, more than a little hopeful.

"Yeah," I say with a nod and it isn't entirely a lie.

_Anything is better than being unconscious._

The water sits like a cold and heavy rock in my stomach. I rub my eyes again and let out a small sigh of relief when my vision slowly starts to take on something close to focus. I'm still in my lab. I don't know why I thought they might have moved me. I absently reach up to curl my fingers around the leather strap that normally crosses over my chest. It isn't there and my fingers brush against the rough linen of a sling instead. It's tied securely around my neck, keeping my black and useless hand hanging like a dead-weight against my plastron.

_It wasn't that bad before. It's only getting worse. You better fix this, Genius._

The dark and cracking skin stretches to my elbow and the veins in my arm pulsate black up past my shoulder and my line of vision. I wouldn't be surprised if they reached my neck. It's spreading. Whatever got into my system is spreading. I can feel panic spark to life in the cold, heavy water sitting in my stomach. I can't succumb to it. I won't. I don't have time. I can't focus on the bad right now. That won't help me get my work done. Even if the wound does smell like it's rotting and the skin on my fingers looks like a burnt hot dog.

"Dude! I told you I'd get you a bucket!" Mikey cries, unable to avoid some of the water I heave up onto the floor.

"M'sorry," I mumble, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand.

_Nice going. Real smooth. Seriously, you're almost Zen._

"Maybe you should lie down again," April says in her stern voice that makes questions statements.

She puts her hand on my shoulder and tries to ease me back down on the table. I don't have the energy for any real resistance, so I simply lean forward. I hope my weight alone will be enough of a struggle for her not to succeed. She's not amused and I hear a truncated sigh that is cut short by pursed lips.

"No," I say with a sharp tone I didn't originally intend to use. "I have…I can't. I have to fix this."

"What you have to do is rest," she replies.

She puts more effort into her next attempt, but luckily I'm heavier than I look and she doesn't get very far.

"If I don't fix this…who will?" I insist.

I don't mean to sound like I have no faith in my family, in her. I don't mean to sound conceded or self-important or whatever else that question makes me, but...

_But if you don't fix this who will?_

I'm about to ramble out an apology or an explanation when I see her eyes narrow slightly. I open my mouth, nothing comes out. My attention is suddenly and painfully pulled elsewhere. Apologizing or explaining myself is now the furthest thing from my mind. Panic flairs to life again in my empty stomach and my eyes are probably as round as dinner plates. There is something moving under the skin of my arm.

"What's wrong?" April asks and her annoyance is gone.

She sounds as panicked as I feel and I'm sure I must be radiating the emotion at every frequency. There's another unmistakable movement under the hardened black skin of my forearm and wrist. It's a quick swish and roll, like Master Splinter's tail sliding across the ground when he's annoyed.

"M-Mikey?" I say, trying to swallow back the worst of my panic. I need to focus. "Can, can you please get me a pair of tweezers…and a jar, I need a jar."

He looks between April and I with one fluid whip of his head before nodding aggressively. "I'm on it," he says, darting over to the work bench along the wall.

I don't even care that it sounds as though he's breaking things while he searches.

"Donnie, what is going on?" April asks and her grip tightens on my shoulder.

I swallow again and can't hold back a shudder when it swishes again. "There is…there's something…moving," I say, keeping my voice down so my brother won't overhear.

She let's go of my arm and her eyes go wide. "What do you mean, something is moving?" she hisses, staring at my arm as though something might rip through the skin at any moment and eat her brain.

_Oh my God, what if that happens?! That's what always happens!_

"Here, is this good?" Mikey asks.

He's out of breath and slams the metal tweezers and Mason jar onto the table with unneeded force.

"Yes, thank you," I reply.

My voice is frighteningly calm and does nothing to lessen the look of panic and fear on their faces. I move the sling over my head and the pain in my arm flares to life again. It doesn't matter. It can't matter. It's going to hurt a lot worse in a few seconds so I better get used to the idea. I lay my arm on the table, these small movements are enough to make me lightheaded and I'm not entirely convinced I'll be able to do this without passing out.

"Mikey, put on some gloves. I need you to hold my arm down," I say the instructions in the same, unnervingly calm voice and my brother stares back at me with doubt in his eyes.

"D, I don't…let me go get Master Splinter. He'll know what to do."

_If you don't do this now you'll lose your nerve._

"No, Mikey, I need you to help me," I say and it comes out pleading.

If it was anyone else I would probably be embarrassed, but it's Mikey. He won't make fun of me and he won't judge. We're a team after all. He flinches and I can see him struggle with the decision.

"All right, but if it goes wrong I'm getting Master Splinter," he says, putting a hand on his hip and doing his best to look stern and resolute.

"Yes, okay, deal," I say with a quick nod as another swish in my arm makes my muscles clench.

April looks less than convinced, but doesn't argue against my request. Mikey takes hold of my arm between the shoulder and elbow with one hand and presses down on my fingers with the other. He's not even using a fraction of his strength and the pain is enough to make my eyes water and my resolve falter. I grind my teeth and hope my grimace isn't too noticeable. If he thinks he's hurting me he'll let go. I can't let that happen. I won't be able to do this if he's not holding me down.

_You'll probably pass out anyway. What then?_

"Okay, hold on tight," I say. "Don't let me pull away. It's very important you hold on."

He nods and I feel his grip tighten. It's now or never and another swish across my wrist is the only incentive I need to move forward. I stretch out my hand as best as I'm able. The skin at the crease on the underside of my wrist has split open and oozes onto the table. I take a deep breath and use the tip of the tweezers to pry the skin further apart. The pain flashes white across my vision and I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from crying out. The sharp, metallic taste of blood in my mouth distractions me for a few a few brief, glorious seconds from the searing pain in my arm.

_Can't stop now. Hurry up!_

I lean forward, pushing the blackened skin further apart. My stomach gives a roll and I hear April gasp. There's something there. I didn't imagine it. It's pink and skinny and barbed at the edges and it is squirming away from my attempts to grab it with the tweezers. I struggle involuntarily against Mikey's grip, but my brother holds strong and if I had more of my wits I might have thanked him for it. Every failed attempt to grab hold of the squirmy, pink mass sends a new bolt of pain shooting through my body and a cold sheen of sweat threatens to make me lose my grip.

_Press to the left. It'll go right and then you can grab it._

"G-got it!" I cry around a groan as the tweezers close around the end of it.

I pull, careful to keep a firm grip without ripping the mass in half. The last thing I want is to have to fish out another piece from my arm. It fights back, squirming and digging its barbs into my flesh. It doesn't matter. I'm not going to lose this fight. This thing is not going to burrow into my arm. I will not let that happen. It loses its grip and I pull it free, holding it above the table with a hand that trembles uncontrollably. It looks pinker somehow out in the open as it attempts to curl up around the end of the tweezers. I think it would be about six centimeters long if stretched end to end.

"Oh, Dude, I think I need the bucket," Mikey whimpers, his hands still clasped around my arm.

"Jar, jar get the j-jar," I pant.

He slides it across the table and I drop it into the glass container along with the tweezers. April slams the lid shut and then takes a step back, staring at the thing with a face twisted in disgust. I'm going to pass out. My vision is narrowing to a pin point and the room is spinning. I think I throw up the remaining water in my stomach because I faintly hear Mikey's cries of protest before I collapse back onto the table. I don't have time for this. I need to fix…


	16. Chapter sixteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Notes: Not quite fluff, but much less on the gross this chapter. Some more Donnie/Science moments. Keep in mind this is science fiction when reading...emphasis on the fiction :0)
> 
> Next Chapter: What have Raph and Leo been up to

Chapter Sixteen

"So…what is it?" Michelangelo asks, tapping his finger lightly on the side of the jar.

The pink, squiggly thing rolls and curls around itself and seems to flee from the noise. It makes my stomach flip in unison. That thing was in my arm. That thing was growing in my arm. I turn away and raise a hand to my mouth. I don't want to look at it anymore. I thought the pain was going to be the worst of it. I had felt that pain down to my bones. I felt that pain with every molecule in my body to the point where I wondered if it was the only feeling left in the world. I thought the pain was the worst of it. That was before I pulled that horrific thing from my arm.

"I don't know, Mikey," I say with a sharp breath. "Stop tapping the glass."

He pauses with his finger mid-tap and sits back with a pout. "Kinda looks like a Kraang tentacle," he says, his freckles mushing together as he crinkles his nose in dislike.

I blink, his words are frighteningly accurate and I push them away, not wanting to think about it. I only woke up a few minutes ago and my foggy mind isn't ready to consider that my arm was an incubator for a baby Kraang, or at least its tentacle. It's bad enough knowing that anything was growing underneath my skin. I shudder and try to resist the urge to scratch my arm until it bleeds.

_What if there are more of those things in there?_

Stop it. Don't think about it. Don't think about more of them sliding and squirming around your muscles and tendons; wrapping around your bones. I close my eyes and lean forward slightly, breathing in slowly through my nose. I'm going to throw up again. As soon as I woke April and Mikey insisted that I drink more water and now it's sloshing around in my otherwise empty stomach, threatening to come back up at any moment.

"Do you want to lie back down?" April asks quietly.

She is sitting next to me on the edge of the table. She helped get my arm back in its sling and stayed at my side when she was finished. Probably afraid I would keel over without someone to catch me. She rubs my carapace and I concentrate on that, not the rolling of my stomach or the dark, panicked thoughts that make me shudder. I swallow and take in another uneven breath. My head spins from sitting up straight and I lean against her for support and shake my head no.

"At least…it hurts less," I say with a meek smile when I see the unbridled worry in her eyes.

"Does it?" she asks still barely raising her voice above a whisper.

Her face is ashen and her eyes are still red from crying. It's my fault. I don't want her to be upset. I don't want her to worry.

I nod, eager to convince her that I'm improving. "Yeah, I mean, it still hurts, but, it's less," I insist.

I shouldn't keep leaning on her. I'm fairly certain I can at least stay sitting upright without falling over, but she's warm and I don't want to move. She doesn't pull away and so we lean on one other for a few, quiet moments. I could fall sleep like this if I let my eyes close. I'm so utterly exhausted and spent I could probably sleep standing up if it came to it.

"Uh, Donnie?"

I've grown to resent that configuration of words and tone of voice. All three of my brothers have their own version of it. It's tentative or shameful or in Raph's case demanding. It means they've broken something or more accurately that they need me to fix something. I close my eyes and breathe in April's scent and focus on the warmth of her pressed to my side. I haven't finished working yet, there are still things to do, still things that are broken that need fixing and so I can't stay like this any longer.

"Is the mutagen supposed to do that?" Mikey asks with a slow point to the glass container filled with the green ooze we collected from the canisters.

I have to get up. I can't see from my seat on the table and Mikey looks worried enough to start my own anxiety flaring. My feet hit the cold floor and I instantly shiver. April drapes my good arm over her shoulders, but I'm afraid I'll hurt her if I can't support the majority of my own weight. Mikey must have the same thought because he rushes over and takes her place before she can argue or take offense. The short walk over to the other table is enough to set my head spinning and my knees threaten to buckle.

_Don't pass out. You just woke up, don't pass out._

"I'm gonna help you sit, all right?" Mikey says, gently lowering me to the floor in front of the canister. "Cause Dude, you weigh a ton," he adds with a nervous laugh.

I don't care why he sets me down, I'm just grateful to be off my feet. That moment of gratitude is fleeting when my eyes settle on the container of ooze behind the glass. There's something floating around in the liquid; a bunch of somethings. Little pink somethings the size of grains of rice, darting and swimming through the ooze like tadpoles. My fingers curl and I instinctively scratch at my right arm, not caring that it sends pain shooting up to my shoulder. There are things growing in the jar. Exposing the mutagen, or whatever it is, to oxygen must set off some kind of reaction.

_There are probably more things growing in your arm. That jar is cold and exposed and muscles are warm and dark; the perfect place for things like that to grow and burrow._

"Stop," April says, resting her hand atop my own when I continue my frantic scratching pattern across the blackened skin. "You'll hurt yourself."

"I need to study these things," I say, changing the subject.

That's what I should focus on. Studying them, finding out how they work and most importantly how to destroy them. I can focus on the task at hand. I can fix this. I made a retro-mutagen, this should be simple. I just need to clear my head and ignore the urge to claw at the blackened skin covering my hand.

"Mikey, can you, I need some supplies," I say, fumbling a bit over the words.

_Get it together. Just a little while longer and you can rest._

"What kind of supplies?" he asks, standing in front of the supply cabinet at a loss.

_Yeah, what kind of supplies?_

"I…umm, I think," I stutter and struggle to come up with an answer, the growing ache in my head taking most of my attention.

"Maybe you should rest first," April suggests and again it isn't really a suggestion. "Your eyes aren't going in the same direction."

"M'fine," I insist with a huff and a dismissive wave of my hand. "I need to analyze the ooze," I say reaching up to take hold of the table in an embarrassing attempt to get to my feet. I slump back to the ground. "I…I'll need a little help."

"If we help you, will you promise to rest?" April says.

She crosses her arms over her chest. I'm sure this is the only deal she's willing to make so I nod quickly.

"And you have to eat something first," she adds while I'm still nodding.

She takes that for a yes and smirks, quite pleased with herself. Mikey helps me to my feet and into the chair at my desk before running off to the kitchen with a promise to bring back the blandest thing he can find. It could be the blandest food in existence and I think I might still throw it back up. Mikey returns with a pot of weak tea and a plate of dry toast. Maybe April is right. Maybe if I get some food and drink into my stomach I'll get some of my strength back.

I finish off a cup of tea with slow, even sips. The warm liquid traveling down my sore throat feels better than I'd like to admit and I move on to tentative bites of bread. The first few swallows are a struggle and I can feel my stomach tighten and threaten to reject the food. I force down a few more mouthfuls and each bite starts to be easier than the one before it. The trembling in my body has downgraded to a slight tremor, but the pain still lingers as an angry after thought.

"Eat another piece," April says, raising an eyebrow when I start to open my mouth to argue.

"Do you want something else? I could make some rice. That's good for bad stomachs, right?" Mikey says, looking to April for support.

"That's a wonderful idea, Mikey," April answers for me and my brother darts out of the room without further comment.

"I know you think you're helping, but I really am fine," I say around a mouthful of toast. "I've got work to do."

"Uh huh," she replies, pointing at the plate. "Finish your toast."

I'm about to argue. It's a gut reaction to a lifetime of similar arguments with my family. I put the slice down and set my mouth in a determined line.

"Just eat the food, Donatello," she snaps, stopping me short.

Her voice is bordering on shrill and her eyes start to brim with tears.

_Now look what you did._

"Do you have any idea what it was like? To stand back and listen to them hurt you. I could feel your pain and I couldn't do anything to help to make it better and then that…that thing in your arm. You could have…" she cuts herself short with a sharp breath and wipes angrily at the few tears that managed to break through. "So if you think for one second that I'm going to sit here and let you make yourself sick because you're too stubborn or too stupid to take care of yourself then you really are an idiot!" she says, pushing the plate closer to me with an angry clatter. "Eat the damn toast."

_What is wrong with you?_

"I…I'm sorry," I say, reaching out my hand and curling my fingers when she moves her shoulder to avoid my touch.

"Don't be sorry, just don't ever scare me like that again," she replies with a pout and an angry sniffle.

"I promise," I say, even though such a thing is ludicrous and impossible.

The sentiment seems to be enough and she crawls onto the chair with me, wrapping her arms around me and leaning in to bury her head in the crook of my neck. She maneuvers to avoid my injured hand and I pull her close with the other. I lean down and kiss the top of her head, shivering when she returns a kiss to the side of my neck.

"I uh, I found a sports drink in the fridge," Mikey says, adding an unconvincing cough to hide a snicker.

April doesn't seem too concerned with our sudden lack of privacy and adds another kiss to the first before sliding off the chair. "Excellent," she says, crossing the distance to my brother. "You drink this and eat your food," she says setting the blue bottle and the bowl of rice onto the desk in front of me. "And Mikey and I can start your experiments."

_She's kind of perfect._

"Um, okay, yeah," I say with a nod, struggling to open the drink with my left hand.

Mikey opens the bottle and sets it back down. "Dude, I am like so good at science now. We'll have this fixed in no time."

No time might be a bit of an exaggeration. All the time, it is going to take all the time that ever was. That's a more accurate assessment. Mikey needs everything explained to him at least twice and even if he does understand the first go around he insists on a second explanation before he even considers making a move. April is more willing and capable but she is purposely moving at a slower pace; stopping every few minutes to make sure I continue eating. I try not to sound annoyed or frustrated. They're trying to help after all and there are things I can't do one handed.

_You need to learn how to do things one handed._

By the time Mikey has fished one of the pink tadpoles from the ooze and placed it on a slide I'm practically itching with the need to finish the work on my own. I wait impatiently for him to make another slide of the ooze, tapping my foot in an increasingly manic pattern. I mumble a quick and possibly insincere sounding thank you and ease the slide onto the microscope. I'm not sure what I'm expecting to see; something closer to an insect or possibly invertebrate larva, like a caterpillar or grub is my first assumption. What I see when I lean in towards the microscope is infinitely more exciting than a parasitic worm.

"By Darwin's beard," I breathe, adjusting to get a better look. "Fascinating."

April bristles at my side and Mikey bounces on the balls of his feet. "What is it?" he asks, excitedly and I can't help but feel a little sting of pride that my brother is excited about science. "Is it a baby Kraang?"

I shake my head, sitting up. "No, not even remotely. The outside is tissue based, I'd have to do further tests to decipher what kind, but its insides are completely non-organic," I say with a little laugh.

_Fascinating._

April leans over to get a look for herself and Mikey just stares at me and blinks.

"So…" he says, holding his hands out palms up, waiting for further explanation.

"It's synthetic," I say, adding when that causes no change in his posture. "Man-made, self-replicating nanobots if I'm not mistaken. I'll need to test the density and do an x-ray florescent analysis to be certain, but there is defiantly a synthetic material present."

"So…robot tadpoles?" Mikey replies, clearly having lost his initial excitement.

"Technically, cyborg tadpoles, since there's a biological component…"

"And you don't think it's Kraang?" April asks with a frown.

"I don't think so," I reply, tapping my finger alongside my jaw in thought. I change out the slide to take a look at the ooze on its own. "The metal on the containers is definitely alien in origin, but I'm fairly certain the material inside these grubs is from Earth and the ooze itself isn't like the mutagen we've seen before. It's swimming with thousands of these things. They're microbial but they must start replicating and combining when there's a catalyst or a host to latch on to."

"So, humans are making these things?" Mikey asks, leaning over to tap the glass of the jar, causing the bigger parasite to squirm and wiggle away from the noise and vibration. "That's messed up, man."

"Who would do that?" April says with a disgusted turn of her mouth.

"Brandt Zhao industrial."

April and I turn with identical slow swivels of our heads in my brother's direction.

"It's the name on the box," he replies with a point at the rain-warped cardboard.

"What is going on in here?"

I jump at the sharp clip of Master Splinter's voice and find some solace in the fact that Mikey flinches as well.

"Donnie totally pulled a robot tadpole out of his arm," Mikey says, pointing enthusiastically at the jar and its squiggling prisoner. "Seriously, Sensei it was the grossest thing I've ever seen and I live with Raph," he says with a chuckle at his own joke.

"It's not a robot, if anything it's a cyborg," I insist and my voice raises an octave in that way I hate when I'm trying to defend myself or correct someone.

Master Splinter looks at the jar and I think his lip curls back in disgust. I can't be entirely sure with his back halfway turned. I wouldn't blame him. It is disgusting.

"You should not be out of bed," he says with a sweep of his robe and swish of his tail across the concrete. "Michelangelo, I told you to watch over him."

I don't know what anger me more, Sensei chastising Mikey or Sensei talking about me like I'm not in the room. Either way a warm anger starts to burn in my stomach. My exhaustion and lingering pain trump my logic and common sense and I'm left with the ill-fated desire to yell at Master Splinter.

"Mikey was helping me. I didn't need watching over. I needed help to fix this mess. I don't see the rest of you doing anything about it," I suck in my breath as soon as the words finish tumbling out of my mouth. "I…Sensei, I didn't mean, I'm sorry…"

"Where are your brothers?"

The question catches me off guard and I look around the room as if Leo and Raph might pop out from behind Timothy's tank or from under the computer desk. "I don't…not here," I reply with another ridiculous look around the room.

"I thought they were with you," Mikey adds and now there's worry in his voice.

Master Splinter takes hold of my face. His touch is gentle even though for some reason my pain-addled mind expects it not to be. He lifts the sling over my head and gingerly moves my hand into view, keeping the rough linen as barrier from his own skin. The blackened flesh seems to have stopped spreading, cutting off halfway up my forearm. The cracks in its surface still ooze and let off a less than pleasant smell; the original cut on my thumb and now the burrowing hole on my wrist seep black blood along with the greenish foreign liquid.

_At least it doesn't hurt as much._

"That thing was in your arm?" he asks, with another nose twitch.

I nod and swallow. I'm finding it increasingly difficult to focus my eyes and I'm sure I am blinking more than one should. One of his hands is back on my face, resting across my forehead. He lets out a tiny noise that I recognize as displeasure. Like when Mikey makes an inappropriate joke or Raph and Leo fight over something inconsequential.

"You're running a fever," he says quietly.

"It's nothing," I insist. "Low grade, if anything. It's better than it was. Honestly, it's not so bad and I ate."

He makes that disapproving noise low in his throat once more and the hand on my forehead slips away. He doesn't have to believe me. It doesn't matter. I have work to do.

"Michelangelo, contact your brothers," Master Splinter says, never taking his eyes off the disaster that is my hand.

_He's going to make you go to bed._

"Master Splinter, we have a big problem," I say, not bothering to argue when he drapes a blanket over my shoulders. "The mutagen isn't what we're used to. It's reverse engineered, it's full of self-replicating, parasitic nanotechnology."

"Robot tadpoles," Mikey adds with less-than helpful commentary.

I sigh and charge on, afraid that Sensei will cut me off before I'm finished. "This is what happened when a minuscule amount got under my skin. I didn't even realize it happened. I must have...some of the mutagen or whatever it is must have gotten into my cut when the canister opened," I insist, my words quickened by worry.

I lift my blacked hand to wave in his face, ignoring the nose twitch I get in response. "Leo said the Purple Dragons had a truckload of this stuff. Imagine what'll happen if they get out into the city. If one or two of these things did this imagine what a whole dispenser full of them will do. Or what they will grow in to. That was only in my arm for a few hours. They'll get bigger for sure or maybe...maybe they're meant to take over the host. I don't...I don't know. I can't think straight, but we can't...we have to stop them," I trail off and find that I can't quite catch my breath.

_They'll burst through the skin and eat people's brains...probably._

"And we will, my son," he says and his hands are clasped on my arms just above the elbow.

He won't let go. I don't try to break free from his grip, but I know if I did he would hold firm. I don't know where the tremble starts. I just know that the piercing cold I thought I escaped is back and it sinks its teeth into every muscle and joint and makes me cringe. I pull the blanket tight around me and tighten every muscle in a feeble attempt to stop them from shaking.

"Master Splinter, the guys aren't answering their T-Phones."

_Not answering their T-Phones? Something horrible must have happened. Leo always answers his phone. Where did they go? Why did they leave the lair? When did they leave the lair?_

Mikey's voice breaks through the increasing haze over my mind. I rub my eyes and fully intend to stand up. I need to triangulate the signals from their phones so we can find their location. We'll take the Shellrazor. Mikey and I can drive it with April's help. Maybe we can bring the sound cannon. If we can save our brothers and take out some of the Kraang tech at the same time so much the better. I have to stand up. I have to clear my head. Master Splinter holds firm to my arms and there is no way I am going to stand up.

"Keep trying," he says and Mikey nods in response before lifting his phone to his ear once more.

"Can you track their location?" Master Splinter asks quietly.

_Wait…what? Why isn't he telling you to go to bed?_

"Hai, Sensei," I reply.

He lets go and my arms feel cold in his absence. He carefully puts my injured hand back in its sling. "Find your brothers and then we will…deal with this," he says with a curl of his lip and a small gesture towards the jar and its prisoner.


	17. Chapter Seventeen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Notes: A shorter than usual chapter this time around, with some Raph POV.

Chapter Seventeen

Raphael

I shouldn't enjoy this. I know I shouldn't, but I'm in the red place and shouldn't doesn't matter. What matters is the mission. What matters is getting information. Information this trembling, terrified lackey can provide. I tighten my grip on his narrow shoulder and slowly turn the tip of my sai where it's impaled in the brick right beside his head. He lets out a cry and part of me, deep down in the dark where I don't like to go, part of me enjoys it. They hurt my brother. This guy might have helped. They hurt my brother. They have to pay.

"Who did you steal the mutagen from?" Leo asks and I can't understand how he's keeping his voice so calm.

I give another curl of my wrist when the guy remains silent and grin at the resulting cry. Leo puts a hand on my shoulder, cold and deliberate and I dial it back. I shouldn't enjoy this. I swallow back the bitter taste of shame and struggle to keep an even face. There isn't time for that now. I can regret things later. Right now we have a job to do.

"I'm starting to lose my patience," Leo says in that same calm voice, like he's talking to a child. "And my brother here already has. Now, we can stop this. All you have to do is tell us what we want to know."

I know he's trying to good cop, bad cop this guy, but his words make me bristle. I shouldn't enjoy this, I don't enjoy this. I'm not always the bad cop. I'm not some animal he can let off the chain when he needs something less than honorable done. He's just as guilty as me. More so because he's pretending that he doesn't get some satisfaction out of hurting the people who hurt us, who hurt our brother. He's a liar. At least I'm honest.

"We…we didn't steal any mutagen," the guy stammers and Leo lets out his best disappointed sigh. "No! Honest, we didn't steal anything. We were just moving those containers. I had no idea what was inside of 'em."

Leo leans forward and narrows his eyes. No one would mistake him for good cop now. "Moving them for who?"

"I don't know! Honest, they don't tell me anything. I just drive the truck."

"And where do you drive the truck to?" Leo asks.

There's a lingering threat behind his words and if the guy knows what's good for him he won't try to lie.

"The old tannery on Norfolk," he cries before Leo finishes the question. "Some big shots in suits own the place. The logo on the boxes had a bird on it. I can't remember the name, or I'd tell ya."

Leo stays silent for a few seconds, never taking his eyes off the guy. I'm pretty sure he's going to start crying if Leo doesn't say something soon.

"All right," Leo murmurs with a sharp pull of his head in my direction.

I wrench the sai from the wall and let go of his shoulder. He instantly grabs his own arm with a whimper.

"Now, you're not going to tell anyone about this, are you?" Leo asks with a casual air.

"No, no of course not, I swear," the guy says, pushing against the brick wall at his back. "I won't."

"Good," Leo replies and he gives me another nod.

He turns and leaps up to the fire escape without another word. There isn't much else to say at this point. I think the guy knows we mean business. Just to be sure I level him with another glare before following my brother up to the rooftop. There are still a few hours until dawn, but I don't think the weather will improve with the rising of the sun. It's cold and dark and matches my mood. Leo is standing on the ledge of the building, looking off towards the south. His shoulders are rolled back and he balls his hands into fists at his side.

"Guys in suits. Must be the Kraang," I say, joining him at the building's edge.

"Maybe," he replies, flexing his hand in thought. "But the Kraang use TCRI as their cover."

I bristle and pace a few feet, not wanting to stand still. "Well, maybe they changed their cover. Does it matter? Let's go to the warehouse and beat some answers out of 'em."

I thought he understood. Who cares if it's the Kraang or not? They have to fix this and then they have to pay for what they did.

"We'll check it out first," he says with a resolute nod. "We can't help Donnie if we get caught."

That's the first time either of us have said his name since leaving the lair and it catches me off guard and I take a step back as if struck. The cold and the red place made it easy to forget why we were out here. Not forget, that's not right; bury. Work the mission, get the information, don't think about how they hurt him. Don't think about how he screamed or how his hand turned black and oozed. Don't think about how helpless you are to fix any of it.

"He's going to be all right," Leo says, but he doesn't sound as if he believes it himself and it makes my breath catch in my chest. "We'll go to the warehouse and we'll find someone who can fix this. He's going to be all right."

I nod, afraid to open my mouth. Afraid of what might come out if I do. He's already doubtful and my defeated thoughts aren't going to help matters. Work the mission. That's something we can do. That's the only thing we can do. I take off after him across the rooftops, grateful for the slight distraction running brings. I'm panting by the time we reach the old factory, my warm breath coming out in a dense haze on the cold air. Leo motions for me to follow and we slip across the ledge until we're perched on the building's roof.

There's a rumble on the street below and the tell-tale beep of a truck backing up. We're above the loading dock. The man driving has his arm resting on the window and even in the dim light I can make out the dragon tattoo covering his skin; Purple Dragons. I feel the anger start to build again and I grip the ledge to keep from vaulting over and pummeling all of them into the dirt. We have to do this smart. We can't help Donnie if we get caught.

"You're late! Again!" the cry is sharp and accusing and followed by the click, click of high heels on pavement.

I peer over the edge and catch sight of dark-haired woman in a suit, yelling at the thugs with no fear of retribution. She has a tablet clutched in her hand and I try to read anything on the glowing surface, but she's too far away. Leo has his spyglass out and I'm sure he's attempting the same thing. She's yelling and pointing and giving more orders before her first ones are even finished. She's in charge. She's definitely not Kraang and she's our target. She strides back inside and I can still hear the muffled sound of her voice drifting out from the opening of the loading dock.

"So, we're going after boss lady?" I ask, my hands still gripping the edge of the roof as if I might fall if I let go.

Leo lowers his spyglass and I see that tiny flinch at the corner of his eye. He's uncertain. He can't be. That's the last thing he needs to be right now. He's supposed to be our leader. He needs to lead. He needs to make a plan. We can't just sit around until morning. We have to do something. Who knows how much time Donnie has left. The thought stops me cold and my hands tighten until my fingers scrape along the bricks and there's a hollow feeling at the bottom of my stomach.

"We don't know what kind of security…"

"They're using the Purple Dragons," I interrupt him with a scoff that is sure to get under his skin. "How big a threat can they be? I thought you were with me on this, Leo. I thought you understood what needs to be done," I say, pushing away from the ledge.

I need to find the red place again. I need to get angry. I need to run from that hallow feeling that I can't shake. I need to fight this. I need to fight.

"I do understand," he snaps. He's losing his patience sooner than usual. He's at his breaking point. We all are. "But we can't go rushing in there without a plan, without knowing what's waiting for us. I know you want to punish these guys, Raph. So do I. But we can't be stupid about it."

The loud buzz of Leo's T-Phone against the bridge of his shell cuts me off before I can muster an angry response. He sighs and pinches his eyes shut before pulling the phone from his belt. He looks at the screen and sighs again.

"Mikey," he says.

Guilt flashes in his eyes and the hallow feeling returns to my guts. We didn't tell anyone where we were going. We just took off. We gave Donnie so much grief over the same thing only a few days ago and now here we are doing the same thing.

"How many times has he called?" I ask with a sigh of my own. The hallow space fills with a cold dread and I ask the question I don't really want an answer to. "Do you…do you think something happened?"

And by something I mean the unimaginable. Leo understands and his mouth sets in a straight line. He shakes his head but doesn't offer anything else by way of an answer. He doesn't have to. I get it. If you don't admit it out loud you can pretend it isn't real; because that unimaginable, horrible thing that neither of us will admit to can't be real. We're going to fix this. We've found the people responsible and we're going to make them pay. We can't be too late. That isn't an option.

Leo raises his phone to his ear and I watch his face for any indication of what our brother is saying on the other end. Mikey must be waiting for our call because Leo flinches at the sudden loud voice blaring out of the phone.

"Where the heck are you guys? I've been calling!"

"Is everything all right?" Leo cuts him off and doesn't answer the loud questions. "Is Donnie…" his voice catches and he can't finish.

I can't hear Mikey anymore and Leo's face isn't giving away any secrets. I resist the urge to grab the phone from his hand and shout at our little brother for answers myself. Leo closes his eyes and nods along with whatever Mikey is saying. He mumbles a quiet apology and an even quieter yes before hanging up. He stares down at the dark screen of the phone and I think I can see his hand shake, but I can't be sure. It's still dark out.

"Leo?"

All I can force out is his name. That's enough, he knows what I mean.

"He's awake," he says around a swallow that looks like a struggle. "Master Splinter wants us to come home."

The tremble to his voice is almost non-existent, but I've known him for as long as I can remember and that slight dip to his words does not belong. He didn't say he was all right. Just because he's awake doesn't mean he's all right. I feel my pulse quicken and panic turns to anger as it always does.

"Go home? Leo, we have a job to do. We're already here, we have to…"

"We have to go home, Raph," he stops me short of shouting and the tremble is gone and he's all business.

He's the stoic leader once more and I hate him for it. He was supposed to be with me in this.

"Is…is he all right?"

I don't recognize the voice as my own, but it must be because the words are tumbling out of my mouth and I can't stop them. I know he's not. I don't know why I want to hear Leo say it. I don't want to go home. I don't want to see my brother like that. I don't want to stand by and watch, helpless. I want to pummel some Purple Dragons and make the boss lady fix this before tearing the whole warehouse to the ground. I want to make them pay. I don't want to run home to Sensei with my tail between my legs with nothing to show for a night's work but an address.

"No…not entirely," he replies and I'm grateful he isn't trying to sugarcoat it for me. "But he's awake. We can figure this out together, make a plan and then come back here and make these people pay."

The flinch is back and he's with me. He understands. No one hurts one of our brothers and gets away with it.


	18. Chapter Eighteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Angst ahead. You have been warned :0)

Chapter Eighteen

"Where the heck are you guys? I've been calling!"

I flinch at the sound of Mikey's shout from the other room and roll my computer chair back in an attempt to hear the rest of the conversation. He's on to me and closes the door to the lab before saying anything else. He doesn't have to hide. If they want to talk about me they can do it to my face. I roll back up to the computer desk, the small movement enough to set my head spinning. I rub my eyes in a vain attempt to clear my vision. The ache in my head is only getting worse and the blanket around my shoulders is all that's keeping the worst of the chills at bay.

"We should take a break," April says gently, even though she means that I should take a break. "It sounds like Mikey got a hold of Leo."

"I'm almost through the security," I mumble.

Ignoring her suggestion entirely I turn my fractured attention back to the computer screen. I have been trying for the better part of an hour to break through the security clearance on Brandt Zhao industrials' company database. It should not be this difficult. I should have gotten through ages ago. I rub my eyes again and squint at the stream of numbers across the screen. They keep blending together. I would have been through ages ago if the numbers would stop blending together.

_Or maybe you're not as smart as you think you are._

The screen goes black and my gut reaction is to curse and throw a fit. I bite back a few choice words when I see April's finger on the monitor's on/off switch.

"What are you doing?" I snap, my patience and stability wearing dangerously thin.

The fever might be cooking my brain, but even I know to back down when she levels me with that glare. I try to appeal to her sense of logic.

"I'm nearly through," I insist. "A few more minutes and I know I'll get it."

I attempt to turn the monitor back on and receive a slap to the back of my hand for my troubles. The lab door opens and I use the squeal of distraction to move around April's hand and turn the screen on with a hiss. She does not look pleased about it. Master Splinter sweeps into the lab with his arms full of a large wooden box. It houses his collection of medicinal herbs and oils and I'm sure I'm in store for some disgusting tasting tea.

"Your brothers are on their way home," he says, setting the box on the table.

"Uh huh," I mumble, turning my attention back to the computer screen.

The numbers are getting smaller and blurrier and it takes me a second to realize Master Splinter has grabbed the back of my chair and is pulling it away from the desk. He takes hold of my face, resting the back of his hand against my forehead with that disappointing noise deep in his throat not far behind. There's a twitch of his nose…no, not a twitch, a sniff and he pulls a slight face. I know what's wrong. I can smell it to. I've been trying to ignore it with varying degrees of success. The wounds on my hand are infected.

"April, could you please help Michelangelo mount the sound cannon on the Shellraiser," Master Splinter says, never taking his eyes off my face.

"Sensei…"

I start to argue, partly from fear and more importantly because I don't like anyone else working on the vehicle unless under my direct supervision and even then I'm not thrilled about the prospect. There's that disappointed throat noise again and I decide this isn't a battle worth fighting. April looks as though she might pick up the slack and argue for me, but earns her own noise and only gives a small nod in response. She leans in and places a light kiss on my cheek and I'm too far gone to get embarrassed or care what Sensei thinks about the open show of affection. Her lips feel like fire against my skin and I grip the edges of the blanket around my shoulders, trying to keep another round of tremors from getting the best of me. He waits until they're gone to speak.

"The wound has gone south," he says simply, reaching up to lift the sling over my head.

_Was it ever north?_

A delirious, little chuckle tumbles past my lips and his disapproval deepens. The pain is back and makes me forget even the memory of laughing. I grip the arm of the chair with my good hand and hiss out a breath between my teeth. The smell is worse without the rough material of the sling to buffer most of it and my stomach gives a threatening roll. The wound on my wrist is the biggest offender, open and swollen and weeping something that looks like dirty dishwater. My thumb isn't exponentially better and I'm certain both will require medical treatment that isn't exactly easy to come by in the sewer.

"I will need to cut away the rotting flesh," he says as if commenting on the weather.

The words 'rotting flesh,' send my stomach rolling again and I can't ignore the offending smell any longer. It fills my nose and claws down my throat until it's pulling up the food Mikey and April tried so hard to force me to eat. Master Splinter must have known that was a forgone conclusion because he holds the wastepaper basket up until I'm done retching. I spit and try to clear the taste of sick from my mouth with little success.

"M'sorry," I murmur when he takes the basket away.

_A ninja should be able to control his body._

There's a soft click of porcelain on the hard surface of the desk and he drapes another blanket over my shoulders. "Drink the tea," he commands, not acknowledging my apology.

_Tea. What meditation won't fix tea will definitely cure._

I struggle to take hold of the small cup with my clumsy left hand and he reaches over to guide it to my mouth.

"You will need antibiotics," he says, keeping hold of the cup until he's convinced I will take a sip on my own.

_You mean the tea won't magically fix this? Heaven forbid._

I nod and force down a painful swallow of the bitter tea. "Clindamycin," I say around another sip. "There's a vial with the other medicine. It's labeled."

He turns to go look through my small collection of medical supplies and medications. It won't be enough, not anywhere near enough. He could cut away the rot, but even with a few doses the infection is sure to come back. Someone will have to get more medicine. I set the teacup down, unable to drink anymore. As it is the few sips are enough to set my stomach turning again. I pull my chair up to the computer and catch sight of his ear turn at the sound of the wheels.

"Do not touch that keyboard, Donatello," he says, his back still facing me.

_Just do it. What's the worst that could happen?_

My hand lingers over the keys and I flex my pointer finger towards the number pad. The fever must be making me bolder than I usually am…or stupider. Either way I've convinced myself that disobeying a direct order from my father is my best course of action at the moment. I only fall one keystroke before he whips around with narrowed eyes and flattened ears. I see it in slow motion although he's probably moving faster than I ever will. He darts forward and takes hold of the main power cord, ripping it from the outlet. The computer crackles and falls to black; lifeless. I make a noise in my throat that is equal parts shock and anger. In the end it almost sounds like someone letting the air out of a balloon with one squeeze.

"I said, do not touch that."

"M-my work," I stammer, eyes wide and mouth hanging open.

"It is not important, Donatello," he says.

_Nothing you value is important. Your work isn't important. You're not important._

The tone is one you use for disobedient children and it makes me see red. My head is throbbing and my skin is covered in a sheen of sweat that makes me tremble. I'm still not convinced I'm done throwing up and the pain in my hand is bordering on unbearable. I do not have the patience for that tone of voice.

"Not important?" I say, my words close to a growl. "Not important? Did you not listen to a single thing I said before? These people are going to unleash this stuff on the city! Who knows how many could be infected. We have to stop it and we'll have a better chance of doing that if I can break through their security clearance. How is that not important?!"

"It is not important if it means your destruction."

_See what happens when you're selfish? You hurt people._

I don't respond. I can't. My whole body is trembling and there's a pinprick at the back of my eyes that threatens tears. Master Splinter turns and I reach out to take hold of his arm before he can walk away. I don't know why I do it. I didn't realize I have until my fingers close around the soft fur of his wrist. I should say something. I should explain myself or I should let go and pretend it never happened. I don't do any of those things. I sit and stare at my hand on his wrist and try to stop the rest of my body from shaking.

_Why is it so cold in here?_

"What is important is that you are well, my son," he says and I flinch when he rests a hand atop my head.

"Master Splinter?"

Leo's voice is cautious and quiet from across the room. Sensei removes his hand at the sound of it and I finally let go. I cling to the edge of the blankets instead and refuse to raise my eyes from the weeping, swollen mess that is my right hand. Leo isn't alone. There are two sets of footsteps moving towards us. It has to be Raphael with clomping feet like that.

"Oh, God," Raph says and his voice is more gruff than usual.

He kneels beside me and I can't avoid his gaze forever. He's worried and scared and I don't want him to be. So I lie.

"It's not as bad as it looks," I insist, my own voice sounding increasingly foreign to my ears. It's strained and low and nothing like I'm used to.

He doesn't look particularly convinced and I'm sure the putrid stench emanating from the wound isn't helping my case. He rests a hand on my knee and I wince. I don't want to. I can't help it. The slight added weight on the joint is enough to send jolts of pain shooting throughout my leg. His face falls and he takes back his hand, holding it up against his own chest.

"Sensei…"

"It will be all right, Raphael," Master Splinter says and he's beside me once more.

There's a slight pain in my arm, it's quick and far away and a pinprick compared to the agony of my hand. Master Splinter pulls the needle from my arm and carefully sets it aside. Instinctively I reach up to rub the place where the needle stuck.

"Help him to lie down," Master Splinter instructs.

I want to argue. I don't want to lie down. If I lie down I won't be able to get back up. Raph ducks under my left arm, throwing it over his shoulder before he hauls me to my feet. I'm no help this time around and Leo rushes over to keep the two of us from crumpling to the ground in a heap. They lower me onto the cot along the far wall and I remain sitting despite Raphael's attempts to push me down.

"I have…some surgical supplies," I explain through chattering teeth. "We'll need to, to clean the wound first…"

"I know, my son," Master Splinter says, stopping me short. "I know what needs to be done."

_He doesn't like being told what to do._

Fear starts to dig its claws into my chest and it won't let go. It's not that I don't trust Master Splinter. He might know what needs to be done, but that doesn't mean he knows the proper way to do it. None of them do. I'm the one who fixes things. I can't just let them carve away at my hand without being sure they do it correctly…the way I would do it.

"You'll need more antibiotics," I continue, gripping the edge of the cot to keep sitting. "There's…there's a clinic on 5th. I've…I've found supplies there before."

_The word you're looking for is stole. You stole supplies._

"I can get what we need, Sensei," Raph says and there's a hint of panic in his voice. "Write it down. I'll get anything you need."

"G-get me a, a pen," I say.

It's a fight to get the words past a powerful wave of nausea that starts from the bottom of my stomach and clenches my throat. I have to write everything down. I have to be thorough. They're not going to fix this with a couple stolen vials of medicine and an old scalpel. This isn't easy. Why is Master Splinter acting like this is easy? For once in his life why can't he just listen?

_Ow._

There's another needle in my arm. It's gone before the pain registers and I reach up to rub the offended muscle. He didn't need to give me another shot so soon. What I really need is an IV drip. I'll have to write that down. Raph will never remember everything if I don't write it down. Why is my vision blurring?

_Because that wasn't antibiotics, Genius._

"N-no," I murmur, gripping my arm tightly as if that might expel the sedative from my veins. "No."

Panic, red hot and unrelenting grips my mind and I think I attempt to stand, although it might have just been a violent sway. I don't want this. I'm not ready yet. They're not ready yet. I need to make a plan. I have to tell them how to fix this. How to fix me. I don't want to fall asleep and wake up to something worse.

_He's probably going to cut the whole hand off._

"H-how…how could…you?" I ask in a jumble of words that might only make sense to my own ears. "I don't want…this isn't…please. Please, don't…you don't know what you're doing..."

Even talking is a struggle and when I feel Master Splinter's hands close around my arms I recoil and thrash with flailing limbs. How could he? This wasn't his decision to make! I'm not ready to sleep. We have to plan. I have to plan. I have to make sure they do things properly. I was fine. I could have…I could have helped. Why won't he let me help?

_Help with what? What are you talking about?_

"Rest, my son," Master Splinter says, easily subduing my vain attempts to strike out with a steady grip on my arms.

_When did Master Splinter get here? Where am I again?_

He's still talking, but I can't make out his words. They're low and deliberate and threaten to lull me off to sleep sooner. I think I hate him in that moment, although I can't be sure why. I can't be sure of anything really, because the darkness presses down on my eyes and the quiet descends with the swiftness of a falling blade.


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter Nineteen

I'm not sure if my first moments of consciousness are even that or just a very vivid fever dream. My eyes won't open, but every sound makes me wince even though I can't differentiate one from the other in the jumble of noise that attacks my ears. My mouth and nose feel as though they're stuffed with cotton and I choke and gag against the intrusion. There's pressure on my shoulder, it might be a hand. I can't be sure. I can't be sure of anything really. There's noise and it's finally warm and there's pressure on my shoulder and a low, steady drone that whispers in my ear and sends me back into oblivion.

The darkness doesn't last. Nothing lasts. There's an end to everything and apparently this is the end of my blissful oblivion. I would have liked to have lingered there a little while longer. It's nice to be still for once. I don't usually get what I want and the pain is waiting for me when I return, like an unwelcomed house guest who just won't leave. It has set up shop and moved in its own furniture. It throbs and aches throughout my whole body and I can't quite pinpoint where it starts and if it ever ends. It isn't the bright, shocking agony of before. It's more low and persistent and just as unwanted. I think a small moan passes my lips and the pressure is back on my shoulder.

_Open your eyes. You have to at least try. Come on. A ninja has control over his body. Open your eyes._

"It's all right, Donnie. You're all right. Don't try to move."

_What do they know? Open your eyes!_

The quiet voice can whisper and console all it likes. I will move. I have to. The fog of pain and something heavier, something unnatural weighs on my thoughts and threatens to derail my plans. All I have to do is open my eyes. That's all. That's the first step. It's simple. It's the start of every day. So why is it such a struggle? I won't let the fog win out. I'm stronger than this. I don't know how long I try, there are several instances where I come close to giving up, but I don't. I persist and all of my effort is rewarded with a glare of light so bright I think my retinas might burn out of my head.

"Easy, it's all right. You're all right," the quiet voice insists.

There's a loud click and the light dims enough where it is no longer painful to open my eyes. I can't see. The room is a dull blur and the effort to open my eyes has left an ache in my foggy head. I flinch at the sudden touch of a hand alongside my face. The hand doesn't move and soon I'm leaning in to the touch, reveling in the warmth of it. The cotton is thankfully gone from my nose and I take in a deep breath; wildflowers. April.

"You're all right," she says again, running her thumb in slow circles along the underside of my jaw.

_Why does she keep saying that? You must not be all right._

"W-was…going…on," I mumble what I think are words.

I can't really be certain. Everything is so foggy.

"Master Splinter fixed your hand," she explains or tries she tries to.

Those words don't make sense to me. I'm the one who fixes things.

"He had to…to cut away a lot of the skin," she continues and I hear a slight catch in her throat.

_Nice going, awake for two seconds and you already made her cry._

She sniffles and I lean against her hand, pinning it on the pillow so she can't pull it away. I don't want her to pull it away.

"Raph went to get more medicine," she says and her voice is steady again. "But you need to rest, all right?"

_Be still._

I can't keep my eyes open any longer. I try and I fail. The pain doesn't abate with the darkness and I nuzzle against April's hand as if it will ward it off. She presses a soft and warm kiss along my temple and through the haze I have enough sense to wish for something more. If I concentrate hard enough maybe I can pretend we're back at her apartment, cuddled together on the couch without a thought for anything but each other.

The cotton is back. It pulls me from the darkness with a fit of coughing so strong I fear I'll never catch my breath. My eyes water and I instinctively reach my hand up to rub them. The bandage hits my face and the pain blossoms bright and horrible up through my arm and into my shoulder. It's unexpected and the fog is shattered. I long for the stillness of oblivion and try to call for help. What comes out is an animalistic noise I hope to never hear again.

"Easy, Donnie. Easy, it's all right. You're all right. I'm here."

The voice is calm, but I can hear the slight panic fraying the edges of each word. I think they take hold of my arm to guide it back to the bed. I can't be certain. Every other sensation, every feeling is dulled to the crushing weight of pain sitting on my chest. I manage a few staggered breaths through my nose and bite the inside of my cheek until the worst of it subsides and I can open my mouth without fear of that sound coming out again.

"Don't try to move," the calm voice instructs. "You need to rest."

_So bossy._

"L-Leo?"

The name is more of a croak than an actual word and the three letters alone are enough to send me coughing again. Someone is resting a comforting hand on my shoulder and eventually my breathing evens out although I can hear it rattle slightly in my chest.

"Yeah, I'm here, Donnie."

He's here. That alone is enough to calm the worst of things to the point where I can almost have a coherent thought. Leo won't let anything bad happen.

_Although he did just stand back while Splinter drugged you and probably cut off your hand._

My hand.

My eyes are open. I don't care about the pain. I don't care about that stupid light that won't stop glaring down at me. I turn my head to the side, blinking back the blur and haze and willing my eyesight to focus. I need to see. I have to see for myself. White bandages stare back at me; thick and almost glowing in the dim light. I want to tear them off and see for myself. See what they left me with. I think I try to do just that because Leo is stopping me. He grips my left hand with a minimal amount of effort and pins me back to the bed.

"M-my…hand," I groan, trying to lift my knees up to push him off balance.

"Take it easy, Donnie," he says and that frayed sound is still clinging to his words but he holds firm. "It's all right. Master Splinter took care of it, but you have to relax."

_Took care of it? What does he mean by that?_

"Get…off!" I say and I think I might have shouted because he flinches and turns his head slightly to the side. "Let me…see it!"

"You can't," he says, barely flinching when I manage to free my left hand long enough to smack him across the face. "It has to stay wrapped until it's time to change the bandages. Do you want it to get infected again?"

_Yes, that's exactly what I want. Jerk._

"Get off of me!"

I shout for certain this time and I don't care that the forceful words tear at my sore throat. Tears are burning twin paths down the sides of my face and my rattling breathes are coming in shorter intervals. It's anger, no it's rage and it's strong enough to even push the pain aside. It crushes any reasonable or logical thought far from my mind and I thrash and curse at my brother until I can't force out any more coherent words around my struggling breathes. He doesn't move. He stays. He's here.

"M-my…h-h-hand," I stammer around gulps of air and sobs that I can't control despite the great desire to do so.

"It's going to be all right," he says and the frays on his words have ripped. "It's going to take some time, but it'll be all right," he insists and his words falter under tears of his own.

_No, that's not right. Leo doesn't cry._

"He…he cut…cut it off," I murmur.

My struggle is bringing on exhaustion fast and deliberate and I'm afraid I might slip back into darkness.

"No," he says quickly around a frantic sniffle. "No, Donnie. No he didn't," he insists and I believe him. Why would Leo lie? What would he have to gain?

I'm alone. The room is dark and the digital clock on my nightstand glares out an angry 2:45am with glowing, red numbers. I must have caught them between shifts. I know they've been taking turns sitting up with me. I remember some of it. Blurry, painful flashes of memories I can't put in to order or weed out from the fabrications. The pain medicine is starting to wear off and that means someone will be here soon to top me off. I don't want them to. I don't like how it fogs my mind and churns my stomach. I'd rather deal with the pain. The pain I understand.

There's a creak of the door opening followed by heavy, deliberate footsteps; Raphael. I close my eyes and try to even out my breathing. He sits in the chair beside my bed and I hear the click of a syringe against the glass side of a medicine bottle. I don't want that. I blink my eyes open and stare up at him He hasn't noticed I'm conscious. His concentration is so focused on filling the syringe with the clear liquid. There's a start to his movements when he turns and sees my eyes looking up at him.

"Oh, geez, sorry, man. I didn't mean to wake ya," he says, never raising his voice above a whisper.

_Who is this considerate turtle and what has he done with your brother?_

"S'fine," I murmur and the words set off a slight cough. "I was already awake."

He grimaces. "I'll be quick all right? This'll help you sleep," he says and he's lowering the needle towards my arm.

I reach across my body with obvious effort, taking hold of my arm before he can stick me. "No," I say, grateful that my voice doesn't waiver. "I don't…want it."

He holds the needle mid-air, his eyes round and concerned. "But…Master Splinter said…"

"I don't care what he says," I hiss and the anger is back, making my arms tremble and my chest tighten. "Not his…decision."

"Don, you gotta rest, man. You're hurt, this'll help you sleep," he insists, making another try of it.

I hold firm and push away the needle. "I don't want to sleep," I say and my voice isn't steady anymore. It shakes and trembles and threatens to choke off by tears at any moment. "I didn't want…I didn't want to sleep and he…you let him. You both…you just stood there…you let him…"

My throat closes and I pinch my eyes shut in shame or embarrassment or anger, I can't settle on one, maybe it's all of them. He stammers over a response and instead attempts to rest a hand on my arm. I pull away with a frantic, lurching movement.

"Don't touch me," I say between painful gulps of air.

"Donnie…"

"Where's Mikey?" I ask, cutting him off before he can defend himself or admit wrong-doing or anything else he plans on saying. "Get…Mikey."

"All right, okay I'll get Mikey," Raph says with scared, frantic clips of his voice.

The chair clatters back against the floor as he runs out of the room. I pinch my eyes shut and try to focus on my breathing. I try to be still. I can't. I need Michelangelo. He won't judge me. He won't tell me what to do. He'll ask what he can do to help and actually mean it. We're a team. He wouldn't have stood there and done nothing.

"Hey, hey, it's all right, D. Ya gotta relax. Can you do that for me?"

His voice is rough from sleep, but he's there and I cling to his hand when he takes hold of mine.

"Breath with me, all right? Ya gotta breath. In…and out. That's it. You got this, Dude."

I do have this. I'm stronger than this. I won't let it beat me.

"Do you want some pain meds?" he asks quietly.

"N-no," I say with a violent shake of my head.

"All right…that's all right. You don't have to. We're not gonna make ya," he says and I cling to his hand just a little bit tighter.

I knew I could count on him.

"Y-you'll stay?"

"Yeah, of course. All night if ya want," he says with a squeeze of his hand.

"Can…can you read to me?"

I don't know where the request comes from, but he doesn't make fun of me despite how childish it is. He cranes his neck over at the bookshelf along the far wall, squinting in the dim light.

"What do you want me to read?" he asks.

"You pick," I say, not wanting to let go of his hand as he stands to pick a book from the shelf.

Raphael is still lingering in the doorway. I can hear him breathing. I'm sure he thinks I'm being ridiculous. I don't care. The pain is creeping back to unbearable the longer I go without pain medication and I need something to distract me. Mikey takes his time, running his finger along the spines of the books and silently mouthing each title as he moves. Finally picking one he crosses the small distance and instead of sitting in the chair takes up shop on my bed along my left side.

"They're mostly science books," he says with a disapproving cluck of his tongue against his front teeth. I don't know why that surprises him.

He settles back against the headboard and I take the hand that's offered, leaning my head against his leg as he opens the book. The book is fairy stories, knights and dragons and princesses to rescue. I don't know where he found it amongst the textbooks. It must be a left over from our childhood and I'm certain there was some night in our past when I read it to him. When he'd sneak into my room after a nightmare or a particularly nasty fight between Leo and Raph and I'd read him stories until dawn.

I close my eyes and listen as he reads; the quiet tenors of his voice a welcomed distraction. Raphael leaves his post at the door and takes a seat beside the bed. He lets a few more minutes pass before reaching out to rest a hand on my shoulder and I hear a tiny hitch to his breath. I don't pull away. I shouldn't have snapped at him before. It wasn't entirely fair. I'm not thinking straight. There's still a heavy fog clouding my thoughts and the pain is twisting them into something bitter and angry. I don't want to think that way. Things will be better in the morning. They'll have to be.


	20. Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty

_Click. Click. Click._ I hate typing one handed. It's slow and awkward and I can't move as fast as my thoughts. To be honest I can rarely move as fast as my thoughts but this just puts a point to it. I should be grateful to be typing at all. It took some convincing to get Michelangelo to snag my laptop from the lab and I'm not going to waste a minute of it. Who knows when one of my other brothers or Master Splinter will come in and make me lie down again. I don't want to lie down. I've been lying down for days. _Click. Click. Click._

"This…this doesn't make sense," I murmur, leaning in close to the screen as if it'll provide a better look at the numbers in front of me.

Mikey hovers over my shoulder to get his own look at the screen. "You're right about that," he says, with a knowing nod and it makes the corners of my mouth twitch into a tiny smile.

"That's not…okay, see this here," I explain, pointing at the row of numbers furthest to the left of the screen. "These are the energy output numbers for the company's fourth quarter," I trace my finger down the screen, showing him how the numbers increase tenfold over the course of a couple months. "Why is a company that sells drywall and construction material measuring energy output?"

"Maybe they're selling energy now," he suggests with a dismissive shrug that signals his instant loss of interest.

"Or maybe they need the energy to manufacture something else," I say quietly.

_Yeah, like burrowing, cyborg-tadpoles._

My arm gives a slight twinge and I'm not fast enough to hide the discomfort. Mikey saw and his face already twists in concern. He doesn't say anything so I keep typing. Never taking my eyes off the screen I try to find a more comfortable position for my right hand. At the moment it's propped up on a tower of pillows to make a ninety degree angle with my elbow. The thick, white bandages are wrapped tightly halfway up my forearm, hiding the gruesome injury from sight. I only caught a quick glimpse of it myself the day before when Leonardo changed the bandages. It was open and raw with pieces of scaly black skin flaking off at the slightest touch. The pain made me pass out before I could form a proper opinion on the carnage. The next time someone changes the dressings I'm prepared to study it fully.

"Breakfast," Raph barks, kicking the door open with his foot and balancing a tray of food in his arms.

My stomach growls instantly at the smell of food. It could be one of Mikey's failed experiments and I would still eat it without complaint. This is the first time in recent memory that the mere thought of eating hasn't set my stomach rolling and I won't pass up the opportunity. I snag a piece of toast before he even sets the tray down, shoving it into my mouth to free up my hand to continue typing.

"How about you take a break," Raphael says, not really making it a suggestion. "Where'd you get that computer anyway?" he asks with an accusing glare in Mikey's direction.

He reaches out to close the laptop. I anticipate the move and hold it open. He's going to argue, I can see the squint to his eyes so I ready for a fight. Those same eyes hover over the image on the screen and the argument is gone. He leans forward and points to the upper corner.

"Hey…that's the boss lady," he says, pointing again at the banner across the top of the page featuring the photographs of the owners. "Leo and I saw her at the warehouse."

I snag a piece of bacon from the plate when I'm sure he won't slam the laptop shut. "That's Amelia Zhao," I say around the mouthful of food. "Her grandfather started the company in the forties."

"That's great, Donnie, thanks for the history lesson. What are they up to now?"

_If he's being nasty he must think you're doing better._

"Well, they've increased their energy output in the last quarter," Michelangelo pipes up, matter-of fact.

He's leaning against the headboard, munching on a piece of bacon and looking rather pleased with himself. I didn't even see him move towards the plate; impressive. Raphael punches him in shoulder, resulting in a pained squeak.

"Don't eat that," he says, threatening another punch when Mikey laughs in reply. "I'm serious. If you want something to eat get your own damn food."

"Why would I do that when you've brought breakfast in bed?" Mikey replies with a grin.

He leans over my legs in a half-hearted attempt to snag some more food. Raph takes a swing and misses as Mikey rolls down to the end of the bed with another laugh. The jostling on the mattress shakes the tray of food, the rounded corner of the wood making contact with my hand. I see stars and a strangled cry tears from my throat. My instinct is to curl my hand into a fist or clutch the injured appendage to my chest, either will only cause more pain so I settle for gripping the blankets with my left hand and pinching my eyes shut until the worst of it subsides.

_Don't pass out. It barely touched you._

"Donnie, oh, man, I'm sorry. Are you all right? Dammit, Mikey, look what you did!"

Raph continues to yell at our little brother and I struggle to regain my composure enough to defend him.

"S'fine, Raph," I insist, taking in a slow breath. "No one's fault…accident. I'm fine."

I feel the weight of the laptop lift from my thighs followed by fretting hands and tucked in blankets. He continues to grumble and lay blame, but has thankfully lowered the volume of his voice. The short burst of anger was enough to draw attention and I blink back tears to glance over at the door as it squeaks open. I'm more than a little relieved that it's Leonardo and not Master Splinter.

"What is going on in here?" he asks, leveling his best disappointed look on my brothers.

The look has the desired affect and both stare elsewhere with obvious guilt on their faces.

"Just…eating breakfast," I reply with a smile that shakes at the edges.

I reach for another piece of toast and make a show of eating. His facial expression softens and a tiny sigh escapes his lips.

"You two need to keep it down," he says, still not entirely done being disappointed. "Master Splinter is meditating and Donnie needs to rest."

"I'm plenty rested," I grumble, taking another big bite of food.

My hunger returns with the fading of the bright pain and I start to make quick work of the offered breakfast, shoveling the food into my mouth with a speed that might even rival Mikey.

"Uh huh," Leo replies, none-too convincingly. "We have morning training," he says to my other brothers, earning a groan from both in unison. "Go warm up. I'll be there in a few minutes."

There is some general grumbling, but neither bothers to argue the point or disobey the order. Raph rubs my head on his way to the door, letting out a tiny laugh when I swat his hand away; annoyed. Mikey offers a smile and something even better.

"I'll make ya whatever you want for lunch, okay?" he says. "You name it."

"Miso Ramen," I say almost immediately and he grins.

"You got it," he says, swatting Raphael's hands away as he pushes him through the door.

"Come on," he grumbles and they continue arguing the length of the hallway and probably all the way to the dojo.

"Glad to see you have your appetite back," Leo says, taking away the empty tray and setting it on the bedside table.

"Yeah," I say with a nod and one last swallow.

It's an odd sensation to have a full stomach when it has been empty for days and I wonder if I should have taken my time eating instead of wolfing down the food without tasting it. Leo's hands are on my shoulders and he pushes my forward slightly to take out the pillow propping me up. He sets it flat on the bed and tries to ease me down onto it. I lean forward in resistance.

"Lie back," he instructs, not giving up. "We need to stretch your legs. You've been in bed for too long."

_He's not wrong there._

I still can't move without help and that hard truth leaves a bitter taste in my mouth. My arms and legs feel as though someone tied weights to my joints and the change in position sends my head spinning. I want to sleep. Exhaustion pushes down on me with just as much unrelenting cruelty as the pain in my hand. The fullness in my stomach isn't helping matters; only making me groggy and lethargic.

"I'm going to start with your ankles," Leo says.

He takes hold of my toes with one hand and my heel with the other, moving and stretching the joint until some of the stiffness subsides. He does the same to the other side before moving on to my knees. My hamstrings whine in protest when the stretch moves up my leg and it's an odd sensation to have pain emanate from somewhere besides my hand. The slow, deliberate pull on my stiff and weak muscles only spurs on my exhaustion and I fight to keep my eyes open.

"Leo?" I say quietly, doubt and anxiety overrun by curiosity so close to the precipice of sleep where my logical mind has very little sway over my actions. "Where's Master Splinter?"

His hands pause just above my knee before returning to their work on the joint. "He's meditating."

_Of course he is. What else would he be doing?_

I let out a bitter snort of a laugh and the tiny scowl on my brother's face is enough to let me know he doesn't appreciate it. I don't care. He can scowl all he wants. I feel anger start to burn to life in my chest, encouraged by the heavy weight of exhaustion and pain that pushes down on my thoughts. My muscles tense and Leo must feel it because he lifts his hands and takes a step back.

"Donnie…"

"I'm really tired, Leo," I say, letting the inference that I want him to leave hang heavy in the air between us.

He sighs and lets his hand rest on my shoulder. I won't look him in the eye, afraid of what I might say if I risk it.

"All right, Donnie," he replies, sounding nothing but defeated. "After lunch I'll change your bandages."

I nod, keeping my jaw clenched and my growing anger locked inside. His hand lifts away and I listen to his shuffled footfalls cross the room towards the door.

"Sensei."

Leo's quiet greeting makes me forget the brunt of my exhaustion and my eyes widen.

"Your brothers are waiting for you in the dojo," Master Splinter says and I can practically hear Leo bow obediently in reply before hurrying down the hallway to start the training session.

Master Splinter's tail swishes quietly across the floor as he closes the distance to my bed and then he's standing beside me. I don't make eye contact. I won't. The last few days are a painful blur, but through all of those fuzzy memories none of them include him. I clench my jaw against another burning rise of anger, my teeth starting to ache from the force of it. He lays out several surgical towels atop the bedspread and positions a metal box full of supplies beside it.

"I need to change your bandages," he explains without so much as a greeting. "It will hurt. I could give you something for the pain before I begin."

It is the worst thing he could say and the burning anger flashes into a blast furnace. "Oh, so you're asking now?" I sneer and the words are hateful and ugly and even with my anger they bring shame to the forefront.

His ears flatten back against his head and I can't decipher if he's angry or shocked at my audacity. The burning in my chest has turned into a white-hot vice around my heart and tears prick and sting at the back of my eyes.

"You…you obviously know best. Why bother asking?" I add and the tears are flowing freely and I'm ashamed. Ashamed of my actions, ashamed of my words and ashamed of the obvious lack of faith my father has in me. "You don't…you don't care what I…what I think. You don't care…"

_Nothing you value is important. He thinks there's something wrong with you. Maybe he's right._

He takes hold of my shoulders and lifts me from the bed as though I weigh no more than a feather. He tries to pull me towards him and I push back with my left hand. Undeterred he holds firm and soon his arms are wrapped around me. I grip the front of his robe and bury my face into the fabric. He holds steady, one arm wrapped around my shell and the other cradling my head as I sob and tremble like a child.

"You…you were very…the wound was grave," he says and there's a struggle to each word. "I knew what had to be done and you could not be awake for it," his grip tightens and I can hear a slight catch in his chest. "I knew you would argue with me. You are stubborn when you think you are right…much like your father."

"Y-you…you could have said so," I say between sobs. "You could have…you sh-should have told me…I need to…to know what's…g-going to happen," I press my face into the folds of his robe and murmur against the fabric. "I'm…I was…scared."

_Pathetic._

There's a painfully long pause before he responds and it's enough time for me to imagine more than one horrible thing he could say. Instead his breath catches again and he rests his chin atop my head. I don't pull away. I don't look up. I can't. I stay cowering against him, wanting nothing more than to take back every last word I just said.

"As was I, my son," he says and his words crumble any of my remaining strength and anger. "I should have been clearer with my intentions, but I was afraid and acted on impulse. I am sorry."

I cannot remember a time when my father apologized to me, to any of us. His word is law. He is the infallible Sensei. He does not make mistakes and therefore has nothing to apologize for. I don't know how to respond to something so alien and so I say nothing.

"And I do care what you think, Donatello," he adds with a small sigh. "We might not always agree, but I value your opinion and your intellect. We all do."

He lifts his chin and moves his hands to the tops of my arms, gently pushing back to pry me away from where I'm trying to hide amongst the robe. He brushes away some of my tears with the back of his hand and I feel shame start to squirm in my stomach, trying to push aside my breakfast to make room. He hands me a spare piece of linen bandage and I wipe feverishly at any remaining tears before blowing my nose.

"Will you please take something for the pain?" he says quietly. "There is no need for you to suffer."

I nod and try desperately to fight back another round of sobs I feel building in my chest. He lets go only long enough to prepare the syringe and I sway dangerously without the added support. The needle enters my arm and I grimace. I need to lie down. My vision is falling to a pinpoint and the dull ache in my head has grown to a thundering agony. Master Splinter eases me back onto my bed and the pain from moving my hand barely registers.

"Be still, my son," he says and his words sound so very far away.


	21. Chapter Twenty One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some PG-13 fluff ahead: This chapter is split between Donnie and April POV

Chapter Twenty One

"There, that oughta do it," Mikey says, standing back to inspect his work.

I hold up the plastic bag and duct tape monstrosity wrapped around my bandaged hand and try not to look doubtful. He used the bags from the surgical towels and the gray tape didn't touch skin until just below my elbow. Infection was still a very real and very possible threat and we didn't need to tempt it. He must see the doubt in my eyes because he's instantly on the defensive.

"It'll work," he insists, putting a hand on his hip and boarding on a pout. "Not a drop of water is getting past the duct-bag."

"Duct-bag?"

"Well, because it's made out of bags and…"

"We get it," Raph cuts him off with a slap to the back of his head.

Mikey glowers in response.

"All right, let's get you cleaned up," Raphael says kneeling with the intent to drape my left arm over his shoulders.

I lean to the other side and keep my arm flat to my side. "I can wash myself," I say for what seems like the hundredth time that morning.

I've given up a lot of my self-sufficiency over the last few days. My brothers and Master Splinter have fed me and taken care of my wound, but I draw the line at letting Raphael wash me. He's not amused and his eyes narrow in that special way before he's about to say something cutting.

"All right, fine Donnie. How about we make a deal? If you can get up and walk to the door by yourself I'll stop helping you," he says, crossing his arms over his chest and looking infuriatingly smug.

_Prove him wrong._

I set my mouth in a determined line and lean back on my left hand for support. I'm not going down without a fight. If it's the last thing I do I am going to stand up and walk to that door, even if it takes all day. I'll wipe that smug look off his face. I hold my right hand close to my chest to avoid accidently bumping into anything and slowly swing my feet to the floor. The floor is freezing beneath my feet and I struggle to hold back a small shiver. Raphael sees it and he lets out a tiny, chuckle that rings with an 'I told you so.'

_Prove him wrong._

I reach up and grab the edge of the headboard for leverage. It's now or never. I pull up and hoist myself to standing. For several glorious seconds I think I've done it. I think the hard part is over and the walk to the door will be a breeze. That euphoria doesn't last and my knees start to shake and my head spins. I'm going to fall. I try to lean back to at least soften the landing on my bed. Raphael catches me around the waist and manages to throw my arm over his shoulders. I don't have to look at him to know he's smirking.

"I hate you," I grumble, leaning on him for support.

He laughs. The sound rumbles deep in his chest. "Sure you do," he says. "Now come on, you have to take a shower. You stink."

"You stink," I mutter in reply.

_That'll show him._

The walk to the bathroom is slow and uncomfortable and we have to stop every time my hand bumps against my plastron. I should have worn a sling. The pain starts at the crease in my wrist as it always does and travels through the tips of my fingers. Mikey follows close behind us, his feet shuffling impatiently with every painstakingly slow step. Raph turns on the bathroom light and I can't help but notice that someone fixed the door he broke days before. They did a less than impressive job. I'll have to fix it once I'm back on my feet.

_Add it to the list._

Raphael lowers me onto the stool someone placed in the shower stall. I'm grateful to be off my feet and I can't help but let out a small sigh of relief. Mikey has his arms full with a shower caddy and he's explaining each item as if this is my first time using soap. I don't stop him. He's only trying to help and that short walk tired me out more than I will ever admit. I should have paid closer attention because water suddenly hits me and I am fully unprepared for it.

"C-cold!" I cry, trying to move out of the spray without toppling over onto the tiled floor.

"Oh, sorry! Sorry!" Mikey says, stepping in front of the spray and letting out a squeal of his own when the freezing water hits his skin.

He fiddles with the levers until the water turns warm and then settles on hot. It's glorious and I can't remember why I put up a fight against this. I lean into the spray, holding my right hand away from the brunt of the water. Even with the plastic covering the bandages I think it best not to risk it. Relaxation is only a fleeting sensation and my muscles tense when Raphael goes about scrubbing along my carapace with a rough-bristled scrub brush.

"I can wash myself," I snap, turning away from his less than gentle ministrations. "I'm not an invalid."

"The more you complain the longer this'll take," he replies with a shrug.

I squirm and turn away, almost falling when I make a grab for the handle of the brush. Raphael lets out an aggravated grunt and slams the handle of the brush into my grasping hand.

"Fine, here, have at it," he growls. "Ya got ten minutes," he says, taking hold of Mikey's arm to pull him out of the stall. "And if I come back in here and you're passed out on the floor, so help me…"

"I'll be fine," I insist.

He lets out a disgruntled snort, but thankfully, mercifully gives me some much needed privacy, dragging Mikey along with him. I love my brothers. I truly do…but I haven't had a single moment of solitude in the better half of a week and it is beginning to wear thing. I close my eyes and lean into the water, resting my hand on the cool tile of the wall for balance. The water is hot and starts to make me light headed. I regretfully lean back and set to the task of washing up. It feels wonderful to be clean, no, wonderful doesn't do it justice. My skin is warm and slightly raw from scrubbing and covered in the clean scent of soap. I almost feel like myself again. Ten minutes slides by much too quickly and by the time I'm reaching up for the towel hanging on the hook at the stalls entrance there's a timid knock on the bathroom door.

_Raphael doesn't knock._

"Donnie? Is it all right if I come in?"

April. I feel a smile tug at the corner of my mouth and I pull the towel tight around my shoulders to ward of the sudden chill in the air.

"Yeah, of course," I call back.

I want to meet her, hold the door open for her, but I can't stand on my own so I remain seated awkwardly in the shower stall. I hear the door open and my face flushes hot when I realize I don't have my mask on and that there will be nothing between us but the flimsy towel covering my shoulders. April pads barefoot across the tile floor and my grin widens when she peers into the stall. The steam still clinging to the air curls the stray hairs around her face into delicate little corkscrews and I want nothing more than to reach out and run my fingers along each curve.

"All clean?" she asks with a tiny smile.

I nod and she stands in front of me, fussing with the towel. "We should get you back in bed before you catch a cold. Mikey changed the sheets…"

I take hold of her wrist and the light touch is enough to stop any further words. I can feel her pulse quicken beneath my fingertips and I give a slight pull. Our lips touch and it's gentle and chaste and I'm sure she's afraid of hurting me. I don't want gentle or chaste and I don't want her to think I'm so easily broken. I let go of her wrist and move my arm around her waist, pulling her close and deepening the kiss. Whatever reservations she had are gone and I lean back against the wall as she lowers onto my lap and leans in to the embrace.

April

I shouldn't encourage this. He's hurt and just starting to resemble something of his old self. He should be resting, regaining his strength; healing. There are dark circles under his eyes and a slight rattle in his chest when he takes a breath. He has always been lanky, but the days without eating or moving and trying to fight off infection have taken any extra weight he had to spare. I can see it in the narrow curve of his throat and in the way his collar bone juts out under green skin; pushing dangerously close to the surface. He should be resting. Not kissing me until I lose my common sense. I shouldn't encourage this, but I do.

I hook my fingers under the edge of his shell beneath his arm, grinning around another kiss when he moans as I touch the soft skin hidden there. It's the first moan I've heard from him in days that hasn't been twisted and turned ugly by pain. I want to hear it again. I want to make him forget the agony, so I trail my fingers along the same spot and feel a tiny sense of accomplishment when his breath hitches and that happy moan echoes throughout the stall once more. His fingers tighten and curl at my waist and lift a few inches to brush against my ribcage. I surprise myself with a moan of my own and feel my face burn with the heat of the room and the growing heat in my stomach.

"S'all right?" he murmurs, kissing the side of my neck with slow, languid passes of his tongue that make me shiver and bite back another suggestive sound.

He's smiling. I can hear it in his voice. He knows it's all right, that it's more than all right. He just wants me to say it. Tease.

"Y-yeah," I stammer and I gasp when he closes his mouth around my throat.

I am quickly losing control of the situation and I try to remind myself why I shouldn't be doing this. He's hurt…he needs to take things easy…this isn't easy…this is…All coherent thought leaves in a rush of breath as his hand grazes the underside of my breast. It wasn't intentional and we both freeze. The persistent drip of the showerhead sounds like rapid, fire gunshots in the cramped space, echoing off the tiled surface and mixing painfully with his rattling breaths. I should not encourage this. Not yet, when he's better, when he's healed. When he's healed he can touch me anywhere he wants. The quiet thought burns a red, embarrassed path across my skin and I'm sure he can read it all over my face so I avert my gaze with a bashful laugh.

"Seriously?"

I didn't hear Raphael come in and neither did Donnie judging by the way he tightens his grip on my ribs and makes the tiniest of surprised squeaks. I roll and flail in the struggle to disentangle myself from his lap while trying to regain any of my dignity. Raphael stands at the entrance to the stall with his jaw tightened and moved ever so slightly to the right in the physical personification of irritation.

"Do you really think this is helping?" he asks and I bristle defensively at the accusation.

"Tremendously," Donnie says from behind me and his sleepy, happy voice makes me smile.

Raph lets out a sigh that is halfway to a growl and rolls his eyes. "All right, lover boy. Let's get you back to your room. Master Splinter wants to change your bandages."

He stops short of pushing me to maneuver enough in the cramped stall to sling Donnie's arm over his shoulder and pull him to standing. The sleepy smile is gone and replaced by a determined grimace. Guilt wiggles in my stomach and I step aside to give them room, hurrying to hold the bathroom door open. I shouldn't have encouraged him. He's in no condition. He needs to rest. He needs to save his strength.

The walk back to his room is slow and laborious and only makes my guilt squiggle harder. Raph lowers him onto the edge of the bed before bending to help him lift his legs up onto the mattress; ignoring Donnie's annoyed insistence that he can do it himself. He lies back against the clean sheets with a sigh, his eyes drifting shut and his right hand resting on his plastron. It's wrapped haphazardly with plastic bags and duct tape and drips water from every fold.

"Mikey?" I ask, gently rustling the plastic.

"Mikey," he replies with a nod, still not opening his eyes. "Seems to have worked though. I don't think any water got in."

"Raphael, you are late for training," Master Splinter says from the doorway.

The volatile turtle looks as though he might argue and then thinks better of it. "Hai Sensei," he murmurs, casting a worried glance down at his brother. "You'll call if you need help?"

A tiny smile tugs at the corner of Master Splinter's mouth and he nods. "Of course, but I believe April and I will be just fine."

Raph levels me with a knowing glare and it's my turn to roll my eyes. Master Splinter is already cutting off the plastic and tape wrapped around Donnie's hand and I'm suddenly struck with the realization that I'm about to see the injury for the first time since Sensei cut away the rotting flesh. I sit down on the bed and Donnie finds my hand instantly, smiling up at me with tired eyes. He grimaces when Master Splinter sticks a needle into his arm and I must look surprised because Sensei explains quietly.

"Antibiotics."

He catches Donnie's eye and there's a tiny, wordless nod shared between them followed by a second needle and another grimace. I feel Donnie's grip loosen slightly and his eyes start to glaze over as the pain medication starts to take hold. He's fighting to stay awake and it would be adorable if it was under any other circumstances. The rough sound of scissors cutting through linen sends a shiver down my spine and I focus on his sleepy eyes instead, not entirely convinced I'm ready to see what's waiting under the bandages.

"H-hey…hey April?" he murmurs and I barely make out my name in the groggy jumble of words.

"I'm right here, Donnie," I assure him, giving his hand a squeeze.

He smiles and his eyes drift close. "Come here."

With a cautious glance in Master Splinter's direction I lean forward and put my ear close to his mouth.

"Did…did you see Raph's face?" he asks around a delirious little giggle before his eyes roll back in his head and he's dead to the world.

I sit up straight as a board and try to cool the blush burning across my face as I clear my throat. Master Splinter doesn't seem to notice, although, to be fair, he has something more important to focus on. He methodically unwraps the bandages, discarding them into a thick plastic bag at his feet as they peel away from Donnie's skin. I make myself watch. I make myself look. I can't avoid it forever and somehow I think it wouldn't be fair if I pretended it didn't exist. I bite back a tiny gasp when he pulls off the last layer of linen and my hand goes to cover my mouth.

The skin across the crease in his wrist looks as though someone dug out a large portion of the flesh and left deep, jagged edges in its place. I don't know how he hasn't bled out and the glistening, puckered skin reminds me revoltingly of cooked, green ham. They cauterized the wound. The gash down the length of his thumb isn't much better to look at, but I force my eyes to take in the full extent of his injuries. Master Splinter carefully cleans the wounds before rubbing a pungent smelling ointment into the skin. His hands are quick and diligent and I can see the faint glint of sadness shimmer across his eyes before he devotes his full attention back to the task.

If there is one saving grace it's that the seeming improvement of the discoloration of his skin. The scaly black that at one point covered the entire extremity has been delegated to a few stubborn patches that peel and crack at the edges. Master Splinter catches one of those edges and peels off the skin with intense precision. The skin underneath is smooth and almost pink, like the peel of a particularly bad sunburn. Judging by the light green patches amongst the black I hope the red will fade in time.

"Is…is his hand…is he going to be all right?" I ask, staring once again at the worst of his injuries.

How can it be all right? How can this not have severe lasting damage? Master Splinter doesn't look up as he wraps Donnie's hand in new, clean bandages. He's considering his response and the fact that he doesn't have a direct answer is enough to crush any hope I might have had.

"It is too soon to say," he murmurs, tapping off a section of the bandages before starting on the next. "It will take time. It will be difficult and he may never regain full use of his hand," he looks up then and I'm taken aback by the sincerity in his eyes. "He will need your strength, April," he says quietly. "You will need to be strong. Can you do that?"

I take hold of Donnie's hand once more and sit up straighter. "Hai, Sensei," I reply and I mean it.


	22. Chapter Twenty Two

Chapter Twenty Two

"So, what's the plan?" I ask, grimacing when Leo presses my knee closer to my chest.

"Don't worry about it," he replies, leaning against my shin and tilting my leg slightly to the left.

The stretch is tight and more than a little painful against my hip but I try not to fight against the movement. The pain will ease away eventually and it's a necessary evil to combat my weak muscles and joints. I need to get my strength back so I can get out of this bed. I need to get my strength back so my family and April will stop giving me those sidelong glances they think I can't see; those glances that are full of caution and fear that I'm broken. His words irritate me more than the pull on my joints and I frown when he eases my leg to the right.

"Of course I'm going to worry about it. I worry about everything," I reply, grunting when my hip catches and there's an audible pop. "You do have a plan, right?"

Leo eases up and lowers my foot back down. "Yes," he says when I think he means no, not really.

"I can help," I insist, wincing when he pushes his thumb against the knot in my hip.

"You can rest," he replies, pushing down with more pressure until the knot starts to loosen and the pain lessens.

"Or," I say, stretching out the word and earning the tiniest annoyed sigh for my efforts. "I can help."

He closes his eyes for a few moments longer than a normal blink and his mouth forms into a straight line. It's the look he gets when Mikey does something particularly annoying or Raph argues unnecessarily. It's not a look I earn too often, but I know when I do he's done and won't put up much of a fight.

"Fine," he says, adding quickly as a caveat before I get any ideas. "But you can help from here. You're not leaving the lair."

"Right, of course," I say quickly as if the thought had never crossed my mind, all though it most certainly had. "So, what's the plan?"

_He doesn't have one._

"Leo?"

He gives a little shrug and walks slowly to the other side of the bed. "We're going to the warehouse," he says and his voice has that cold edge to it when he's readying for a fight. I can't help but notice his eyes are locked on my right hand and the thick bandages hiding the wound from view. "We'll take care of it."

I don't like the insinuation lurking behind his words or the miniscule grind of his teeth. They don't need to avenge me or defend my honor or whatever horrible and frankly insulting, thing they have planned. We have to stop these people before they hurt anyone else. What happened to me shouldn't factor in to that. Revenge shouldn't be at the forefront. I'm fine. I don't need avenging. I push up on my elbow and don't take the offered hand, instead stubbornly taking the time to sit up on my own.

_See, you're fine. You can sit up on your own and everything._

"Yeah, okay, you'll take care of it. What does that even mean?" I ask, at least giving him the chance to prove my assumptions wrong.

He bristles, never one to like it when his word is questioned. "It means we'll take care of it, Donnie," he replies with a slight narrowing of his eyes.

"Uh huh," I mumble and shift away from him when he tries to take hold of my other leg.

I keep my right arm held against my plastron and roll over to the other side of the bed. The movement, coupled with my previous efforts to sit up sends my head spinning and exhaustion crashing down on my thoughts. I do my best to ignore it and squiggle, flail over to the edge near the nightstands and my laptop. Leo sighs and possibly grumbles something under his breath, but I can't be certain. What I am certain of is that he beat me to the other side of the bed and now has his hand pressed firmly on my laptop, keeping me from taking it off the nightstand.

"What are you doing?" he says evenly.

"I'm helping, remember?" I say with enough attitude to make him lose some of the sternness in his jaw.

I use the second or two of distraction to snag the laptop out from under his hand. "If the three of you are going to charge in there without a plan I can at least try to disable their security system."

Leo bristles again and something close to shame flashes in his eyes. "We…I have a plan," he insists, sounding less than convincing.

"Right, operation Take Care of It, how could I forget," I grumble, turning on the computer with a comforting and familiar hum of electricity.

"We've done recon missions and…and we have the sound canon," he says with an annoyed huff. "We've waited long enough. They have to pay for what they did."

_There it is._

He sounds a lot like Raph in that moment and I know he hears it too because he clears his throat and the stern leader tone is back. "We'll destroy the cartridges…"

"And then what, Leo?" I ask, catching his gaze over the top of the computer screen.

My stomach squirms and twists painfully when he can't hold my gaze. Maybe he does have a plan. Maybe they all do. He just knows I won't want to hear it. What else have they done that I don't know about?

"No one hurts one of my brothers and gets away with it," he says and I feel sick inside.

"I…I'm fine, Leo," I insist and my quiet voice makes him flinch.

"You're not though," he says quietly and the words pinch something deep in my chest.

_He thinks there's something wrong with you. You're broken. You need avenging, because you're broken and they all know it._

"I don't need you to take revenge on my account," I say and my voice is twisted, ugly and foreign to my ears. "If you want to hurt these people because they're going to release those things on the city then be my guest, but don't use me as an excuse to forget your honor."

I stare straight ahead at the computer screen and type slowly with my left hand as my brother remains silent.

_Focus on the work. You can hack this security system in your sleep. You can help. You're not broken._

"I…I'm sorry," he whispers and my hand pauses over the keys, but I can't bring myself to look at him. "I'm sorry I couldn't help. They hurt you and I couldn't do anything to stop it or make it better."

_Look what you did._

"No one knew what it was," I say and I clear my throat around an uncomfortable tightness that has settled on my windpipe. "There was nothing you could have done."

"You would have fixed it," he says and I'm forced to meet his gaze. "If it was one of us, you would have fixed it. It never would have gotten this bad," he adds motioning to my bandaged hand.

I turn my wrist over, rolling my front teeth over my bottom lip. I want to pull the covers over the bandages and hide the whole thing from view. Out of sight out of mind. It wouldn't matter. Leo has changed those bandages. He knows what it looks like. He knows the truth of it. There's no way I'm coming back from this whole, the cuts are too deep, the infection too wide spread. Master Splinter did what he could, but he's not a surgeon and this isn't a hospital. I don't want to think about it. I want to work, I want to help and I don't want any of my brothers feeling responsible for what happened. They don't deserve that. So I do what Mikey would do. Say something not entirely appropriate.

"Maybe," I mumble with something that almost resembles a smile. "But I'm a lot smarter than you guys."

He blinks and that awful haunted look vanishes from his eyes with a tidal wave of confusion.

_Nice going. What is wrong with you? This is not the time for jokes._

I start to go over excuses for my behavior in anxious rapid-fire procession in my mind. None of the options seem entirely believable and I instead clamp my mouth shut. I'm about to settle on something, anything when a deep, rumbling sound makes me pause.

_Is he…laughing?_

He is. He's laughing. It starts off quiet and tentative, but soon he does nothing to hide it and I'm the one looking confused. "I don't know," he says around another stray chuckle. "Mikey has his moments."

My own laughter passes my lips and soon we're both cackling like crazy people. It makes my sides ache and my eyes water, but I don't care. I can't remember the last time I laughed like this with any of my brothers and I'm not going to take it for granted. It's ridiculous and maybe not entirely justified. Our problems still remain, they always do. It doesn't matter. For a few moments we can pretend everything is all right and it lessens the weight on my shoulders just a little and makes me think I can carry it after all.

"Hey…what's so funny?" I hear Mikey ask from the doorway and he joins in the laughter without a clue as to its cause. The question sets Leo and I both off laughing again.

"Nothing, little brother," Leo says, finally gaining control.

Apparently appeased Mikey shrugs and flops onto my bed and looms behind me so he can stare at the computer screen. "What are you working on?" he asks in a sing song voice and rests his chin on my shoulder.

"Donnie is going to hack into the security system at the warehouse," Leo says and he perches on the bed beside us. "Think they have the building's layout on there?" he asks.

It's as close as he's going to get to admitting that they never had a real plan, but I won't call him out on it. I feel guilty enough.

"Most likely," I say, leaning forward as I start to work.

Even with the unavoidable slowness of only typing with my left hand it feels good to have a goal, a project, something to work on. The pain of the last few days was nothing compared to the unbearable idleness. Lying in bed with nothing to occupy my mind but worry was enough to push me towards the edge where the dark thoughts lurk. Forced stillness did not make me relax or reflect it made me angry and irritable and twitchy. I need to work. I need to fix things. That's what I do and I'm not going to let anyone take that away from me.

"What are you guys doing?"

Raphael's voice breaks through my focus and I let my other brothers answer so I can keep working. The bed groans and I assume he sits down. They talk quietly amongst themselves and I let the low drone of their voices fade into the background. I'm used to this; working while they're around. I shift my focus to the task at hand while they talk or fidget impatiently waiting for me to finish. It's familiar and safe and more than a little comforting. It's good to know that some things never change. Mikey moves and leans more of his weight against my shell.

"Dude, back off," Raph grumbles. "Give him some space."

"I don't mind," I murmur over the sound of hurried keystrokes and I don't.

There are times I want nothing more than to be alone; when even the sight of another being sets my teeth on edge and sends me scrambling to my lab and glorious solitude. This isn't one of those times. I know that I owe Mikey more than a little for his help over the last few days, so if he wants to perch on my shoulder like a parrot that's just fine.

Mikey blows a loud raspberry in Raph's direction and settles back against my carapace. "Any luck?" he asks and I can hear the annoyed grunt from Raphael's direction.

"Hmm, maybe," I say, crinkling my nose and sticking my tongue out in thought. "This is an incredibly sophisticated system for a warehouse."

"Kraang?" Leo asks.

"No…I don't think so," I say after a few more key strokes. "Unless they've translated Kraang code to work with standard human security programs. It almost seems…military."

_There's a comforting thought._

"That's…odd," I murmur, jerking forward when Mikey leans over to see for himself.

"What?" he says, squinting at the schematics flickering on the screen.

My other brothers are leaning in too, all with that same confused and doubtful expression they wear when I understand something and they don't. "Okay, see this here?" I explain, minimizing the screen to pull up a saved document. "This is the building's blue print from the city's records, and these are the schematics from their security grid," I say, pulling up the security system schematics alongside it, waiting for them to catch on. They don't. "There are three extra levels."

Leo leans back, his face settling into a frown. "So, they've been building underground."

I nod. "And whatever it is they have down there they don't want anyone getting in."

"Or out," Mikey adds with a wiggle of his fingers and a horror-movie cackle.

Raphael rolls his eyes and punches his hand into his other palm. "Who cares what they want. Above ground, underground it doesn't matter. Just tell us how to get in so we can bust some heads."

"It isn't going to be that easy," I reply, biting back the urge to sound annoyed or roll my eyes. "Every entrance is tagged…the camera system alone…" I trail off, not wanting to take any more of my focus off of the task at hand.

"How long will it take you to crack it?" Leonardo asks and I know he is trying not to sound impatient, but it sneaks in around the edges of the question just the same.

I shrug, only half listening to him anyway. "Couple hours."

_Click, click, click._

They won't wait in here for that long. They'll make their excuses and go off on their own pursuits until I call them back. I don't particularly want to be alone, but I won't ask them to stay. Despite Leo's admittance, I'm not convinced everything is all right between us or with Raphael for that matter. There's something deep and buried under the blurry and fevered memories of the last few days that rings sharply of betrayal. I'm not about to bring it up on my own. It can stay shoved down in the dark where it belongs.

_Fix it Donnie. Just shut up and do what you're supposed to._

"Let us know when you get through," Leo says and he's already standing.

I nod and don't bother to look up from my work.

"I'll get you lunch," Raph adds with a crack of his neck, already eager for a fight.

I'm sure he's off to go take out his frustrations on the practice dummy before food is even a possibility. I mumble a thanks and keep working. The weight of Mikey's chin is still on my shoulder and I feel a little sigh travel up through his chest. Leo or Raph tells him to leave me alone, I can't be sure who, I'm not entirely paying attention, but he waves them off and stays put. I wait until the others leave, hovering over the keyboard before my work can steal my focus again.

"You don't have to stay here if you don't want to," I say quietly. "I know it's boring."

"Nah," he replies with a dismissive chuckle. "I like watching you work."

I'm not sure if he means it or if he just thinks it's what I want to hear, either way it's nice of him to say it. I flex the fingers on my left hand and let them rest idly on the keypad. That bothersome tightening in my throat has come back and I cough in an attempt to clear it.

"Thanks," I say, clearing my throat again when the word comes out like a croak. "Thank you, Mikey. For…for everything."

I should be more specific or eloquent, although an abundance of eloquence has never been a prerequisite in talking to my brother.

"No worries, man," he says, wrapping his arms around me. "The B-Team has to stick together, right?"

I reach up and take hold of his wrist and can't help but let out a quiet laugh. "Don't call us that," I say and he snickers before settling in to watch me work.


	23. Chapter Twenty Three

Chapter Twenty Three

I might have miscalculated when I said it would only take me a couple hours to hack the security system. Two hours has come and gone and I'm not much closer to my goal. The pathways aren't clear and the code doesn't follow any standard protocol I'm versed in. The slight spin in my head and the ever growing ache in my joints does nothing to help me focus on the task or circumvent the firewall. I sigh and rub my eyes, hoping to clear my vision of some of its haze. The ache in my body has upgraded to pain and I wince at every small movement, unable to find any position that brings relief.

_You can't even sit up without getting exhausted. Pathetic._

I lean back against Michelangelo, my shell connecting with his shoulder. He's sleeping, has been for the better part of an hour. I don't wake him. He looks content and it only seems fair that one of us gets to be. I roll my shoulders back and curl my toes, forcing back a tiny grunt when pain flashes bright and mainly settles in my knees and hips. The all too familiar sound of flatware scuttling across a food tray pulls my attention away from the computer screen and I glance up at Raphael bringing the promised lunch over to the bedside table.

"Get through?" he asks.

He sounds like he's only asking to fill the silence, as though the answer is obvious. Of course I would have gotten through by now. I said I could and there isn't any reason for me to be struggling. Except of course for the pain and the spinning in my head, and the fact that I can only type with one hand; not my dominant one if we're being honest. I let out a frustrated sigh and the ridge above his eye lifts in question.

"Almost," I mutter, not sounding in the least bit convincing.

"Take a break," he says, his voice and the smell of food rousing Mikey from his nap. "Eat your lunch."

"What'd ya bring?" Mikey asks around a yawn. He stretches his arms above his head and smacks his lips together loudly. Every movement I'm sure exaggerated with the sole purpose of annoying our brother.

"Nothing for you," Raph replies and he slaps Mikey's hand away from the tray.

Mikey laughs and I take the moment of distraction to get in a few hurried keystrokes before Raph loses his temper and slams the laptop shut.

"Don't," I say, holding my hand onto the screen when he tries to close it. "I've almost got the schematics," I add quickly before he snaps at me.

_Click. Click. Click._

I lean closer to the screen and try to ignore the pain shooting up my back. I move through a grouping of files and hold my breath when I click on the one in question. It opens. Relief, glorious, wonderful, relief floods over me and I feel a grin spread across my face. It isn't exactly access to the entire system, or even most of the system, but it's something. It's a start and it means I haven't been wasting my time.

The schematics are far more detailed than the first set of blueprints I came across. There are entry points and access codes, with the layout of the entire fiber-optic network broken down by floor. I can pinpoint the location of the security cameras and alarm stations. With some time, and further study I'll be able to figure out the best point of entry before I tackle taking over or at least piggybacking on the security feed. Even with such precise schematics I won't feel right about sending my brothers into this maze without at least being able to see where they're going in real time.

"Ha!" I exclaim, clicking through a few more files with that excited little chuckle I save for the beginning of a breakthrough. "Soon we'll be able to see the entire facility."

Raphael grabs hold of the computer before I can stop him. Instinctively I reach out with both hands and instantly regret it when pain makes my breath hiss and my vision blur. I grit my teeth and curl forward, resting my hand against my plastron until the pain lessons and I can focus on something just as unrelenting; anger.

"What…are you doing?!" I cry and I think he might look surprised but he covers it with a scowl.

"You're taking a break," he says, holding my computer out of reach. "Eat something and you can have this back."

I take a slow breath in through my nose and ball my left hand into a fist. Mikey's hand is on my forearm and I'm sure he can see what's coming. I ignore him. Those feelings I was trying to shove down, the lingering betrayal and anger, they're just below the surface now and I'm too tired and the pain in my hand is still too present for me to hold them back any longer.

"I was in the middle of something, you idiot," I sneer in Raphael's direction. "Give me back my computer now," I insist, my voice low and veiled with threats of violence I could never deliver on.

He doesn't move a muscle, so I pounce before he can muster a sarcastic response.

"I don't need you to tell me when to eat or when to rest! I'm not some pathetic child. I can make my own decisions. I can take care of myself. I don't…"

"Expect anything from me," he finishes and there's a tremble to his words that's like ice water in my veins.

_You did it again. You're selfish and you hurt someone. You're wrong._

Mikey's hand tightens on my arm and his eyes are almost perfect circles. "All right, guys, why don't you both just take a breath? Nobody wants to say something they'll regret."

Raphael drops my laptop onto the bed and cracks his neck to one side. "Make sure he eats something, Mikey. Maybe he'll listen to you," he mutters and I feel the ice water thaw as he acts like I'm not in the room.

"Why didn't you stop him?" I ask. The questioning rips out of the dark place where I thought I had my anger in check and I can't shove it back down.

Raphael pauses and his shoulders tense. "What are you talking about?" he grumbles, still keeping his back to me.

"Master Splinter," I say a bitter taste rolling over my tongue at the memory of it. "He drugged me. He…I wasn't…he drugged me and you and Leo just stood there and let him."

Mikey's grip is almost painful on my arm and he turns his eyes towards our brother expectantly. Raphael doesn't say anything and I almost expect him to pretend he didn't hear me. I wouldn't be surprised. He's usually not one for listening to what I have to say. His hands relax and when he finally turns around I'm not prepared for the open and raw emotion on his face.

"I didn't," he says. The words are a barely intelligible whisper and he plows on with more force. "I didn't, Donnie. I had no idea what Sensei was doing. I would never stand by and let someone hurt you, any of you, how could you even think that?"

_Selfish. Broken. Wrong. Push them all away and no one will ever try to help you again. Then you'll be all alone. Maybe that's what you want._

"I thought…" I stumble over the words and I have to look down. I can feel his eyes burrowing into me and Mikey's hand is still wrapped tightly around my arm without any indication that he intends to let go. "You don't think I can do anything on my own," I mumble, afraid that if I don't say it now I never will. "You all think I'm broken and…and I thought he was going to cut my hand off and I was…I was scared and the two of you just stood there. You tell me what to do and butt into things that are none of your business and when I needed help…when I…when I needed you, you just stood there."

I curl forward even more, rounding out my shell and cradling my hand in my lap. The longer he goes without saying anything the more I regret ever opening my mouth. If he didn't think I was broken before he most assuredly must now. I admitted to being afraid, which was a bit of a lie if memory serves. What I was in that moment was terrified. You don't admit weakness to Raphael. He saves that stuff away for when you think everything is happiness and sunshine so he can remind you what life is really like. He already thinks I'm pathetic. I don't need to give him ammo to help that assumption along.

I'm not surprised when Mikey's arm reaches around my shoulders and he attempts to pull me up against his side. I don't push him away but I tense against the touch and never take my eyes off the offensive bandage around my hand. The bed creaks and every muscle in my body tightens. I don't know why I instantly assume Raph is going to hit me. It's embarrassing and mean and I keep the thought to myself.

"I'm sorry," he says and the word is forced out around a deep cough. "That's not, I don't think any of that, Don," he sighs and there's a touch of annoyance creeping into his voice with each new word that passes his lips. "But for someone who's supposed to be a genius you can be really stupid sometimes."

_What did he just say?_

"Excuse me?" I mumble, lifting my gaze so I can match his annoyed tone with a glare.

"If we left it up to you, you'd probably starve to death or forget to sleep for days. You get so wrapped up in your work you stop taking care of yourself," he says, mowing me down when I attempt to open my mouth against his accusations. "I'm sorry it all went down this way, but I really didn't know what Sensei planned to do. You weren't the only one he left in the dark you weren't the only one who was scared," he balls his hand into a fist and stops short of punching my shoulder. "You ain't broken, but you are hurt and you can resent me all ya want but I'm not going to stop taking care of you. You're my brother and that's my job."

Mikey's grip loosens on my shoulder, but he doesn't pull his arm away as he looks between the two of us like he's watching a tennis match. "Now you say you're sorry, Donnie," he says, pushing me gently in Raph's direction.

"What? Why?" I demand, trying to shrug out from underneath his arm with little success.

"You know, for being such a lousy patient," he replies with a tentative smile. "And for calling Raph an idiot."

"He called me stupid," I retort and instantly regret the childish reply when even Michelangelo rolls his eyes at it.

I sigh and rub my eyes. "Fine," I mumble, grinding my teeth. "I'm sorry I called you an idiot," I sigh again when Mikey nods his head for me to continue. "And for not being more grateful for your help."

_You're selfish and mean._

"There, see, was that so hard?" Mikey asks with a grin and a clap of his hands. "You know, you two could save yourselves a lot of grief if you would just talk to each other when something is bothering you."

"Shut up, Mikey," Raph says but there isn't the usual anger behind the command. He leans over and takes the tray from the nightstand, setting it in front of me. "Eat," he says, squinting and then adding. "Please."

I nod and start to pick apart the sandwich with little, tentative bites. The slow introduction of food to my empty stomach reminds me how hungry I actually am and my stomach gives a low growl. Raphael leans across the bed to snag my laptop and I'm grateful he doesn't seem intent on lingering on what just happened. I'm embarrassed and ashamed and I have a feeling he is too. Better to just act like it never happened and let Mikey grin and think he fixed us.

"So schematics, huh?" Raphael asks, looking down at the screen with a crinkle of confusion.

"Yeah, don't…don't touch the keys," I say, holding my hand out and wincing when I think he's going to start typing. "I'll lose my place."

"You mean these keys?" he asks, feigning ignorance as he threatens to press down.

"I'm serious, Raphael," I say, hearing my voice grow shrill despite my best efforts to stop that from happening. "That took me hours."

"How do you get them out?" he asks, shaking the entire laptop like a giant magic eight ball.

I make a noise that is like the unholy offspring of a squeal and a grunt and by his smirk I know I've fallen into his trap. "Jerk," I grumble, snagging the computer from his grasp and carefully setting it on the bedside table.

Raphael snickers and his arm is around my shoulder, pulling me close for a brief second. It's his real apology and guilt and shame burn together in my chest. The half-embrace only lasts a few seconds and he gently pushes away with another laugh. I shouldn't think so little of my brothers. I shouldn't let the dark thoughts win out over logic and the truth. They don't deserve it, they're better than that and so am I. I'm stronger than my doubt and anxiety. I can beat it and I shouldn't take out my failures on them when I don't.

"Seriously, eat your lunch. You can't afford to get any skinnier," he says, picking my left hand up by the wrist and wiggling the arm as if to emphasize my weight loss.

"I'm lithe," I reply around a proper bite of the sandwich, my correction making him roll his eyes.

"Yeah, like a ballerina," Mikey says.

He's trying to help and part of me is proud of the accuracy of his vocabulary, the rest of me grimaces at the boisterous laugh it elicits from Raphael.

"Yes, Mikey, exactly," he says between chuckles.

I'm about to come up with a cutting reply, maybe something about his height, when my T-Phone buzzes and clatters across the nightstand. I try to grab it. There's really only one person it could be and whatever she has to say it isn't something that needs to be shared. Raph is faster than me and my heart drops when his hand closes around the phone and he holds it from my reach.

"Give that to me," I demand, only saved from knocking over my drink by Mikey's quick reflexes.

"Hmm, it's April. Mikey, should we see what she has to say?" Raph asks, looking down at the screen and tapping his finger along his jaw.

He's teasing. He thinks it's funny. I don't. His earlier comments about April and I are still too fresh in my mind and I don't want him making fun of the one good thing I have. I try to sit up further and reach for the phone but my vision blackens around the edges and fainting becomes a very real possibility. I lean forward to focus on my breathing. There's a hand resting on my forearm…and that hand is holding my phone.

_Get it!_

I snag the phone with a triumphant cry. Another wave of dizziness takes some of the celebration out of my small victory. I keep the phone held to my chest and inch back against the headboard for some much-needed support.

"What did she say?" Mikey asks, his mouth spreading into a grin.

"Probably better not knowing, little brother," Raph answers for me and there's nothing even close to a smile on his face. "Shoulda seen the two of them in the shower, ruttin' like animals."

"That is not, no we weren't," I say, stumbling over my anger and embarrassment to get the words out; the crudeness of his accusation catching me by surprise.

"Oh, so she wasn't on your lap with your hands…"

"That's not," I stop him short and curse the blush burning across my face. "We weren't…do you even know what rutting means?"

"I do," Mikey says with another grin and a playful elbow to my side.

_So this is what hell is like. Why not invite Master Splinter in here to talk about preserving April's honor and your nightmare will be complete._

"It's none of your business," I say, getting more flustered with each passing second. Master Splinter was right about one thing, I had April's honor to consider. "And don't talk about her like that. It's private."

"Look who's suddenly the gentleman," Raph scoffs and the teasing tone from before is covered in something less innocent.

"And look who's jealous," Mikey says with a snicker and wiggle of his finger in Raph's direction.

Now it's Raph's turn to get flustered and it's a beautiful thing to behold. On him it almost looks like anger, like most things do, but there are subtle changes that make all the difference. He's standing and pacing and jabbing his finger in Mikey's direction while letting out hisses and grunts. He's lost the upper hand and it has unbalanced him.

"Jealous of what?" he says with a mean-spirited laugh and a cuff to the back of Michelangelo's head. "Yeah, you got it all figured out, Mikey," he sneers. "I'm jealous."

"Calls 'em like I sees 'em," Mikey replies with a shrug, ducking another swing of Raph's fist.

Raph's eyes narrow and his hands shake at his side as he turns his attention towards me. "Eat your damn lunch and get through that security system. We've wasted enough time already," he says, stalking across the room and pushing the bedroom door open with his fist.

Mikey waits a few seconds to make sure he's out of earshot before laughing.

"He's…he's not really jealous," I murmur, the idea too ridiculous to entertain.

"Nah, probably not," Mikey says with a dismissive wave of his hand and an ever growing grin. "But look how mad he got when I said he was."


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Raphael POV for this chapter

Chapter 24

Raphael

I twirl my sai idly and stand beside Leonardo as he and Master Splinter go over the layout…again. I'm ready. I'm on the edge of the red place, keeping it held back for when I really need it. We're going to bust some heads tonight and it's about damn time. I'm itching for a fight. I need a fight. I can feel it coiling in my muscles until I have to move, I have to do something or I'll explode. It's making it hard to listen to Leo drone on about the plan. I have my own plan: punch, kick, stab.

"Dude, you should see me with the sound cannon," Mikey whispers at my side and his voice sets my teeth on edge. "I'm like an expert. Hiss, pop. Those guys won't know what hit them."

"Just don't mess it up like you always do," I mutter, not feeling too bad when his face falls into a pout. "Cause then we'd be stuck underground with nothing to show for it."

He crinkles his nose in that way when he's thinking. "Is this about before?" he asks and tries to rest his hand on my shell. "Aw, come on, man. I was just teasing."

"Would you two pay attention," Leo snaps, tapping his finger on the blueprints with an impatient grimace.

"I got it, Leo. When we get there how about you just tell me who to hit," I push away from the table, knowing if I stand next to Mikey and his stupid face any longer I'm going to punch him.

I pace and when that doesn't help I punch the practice dummy. The stand squeals and sways and the familiar sound is a small comfort. I make the trip to Donnie's lab in a few, short strides and linger in the doorway to make sure I'm not interrupting. He's out of bed. I don't think it's a good idea, but apparently my opinion doesn't count for much around here. His arm hangs in a sling across his chest and he scoots around the floor on his computer chair using his staff like an oar through water.

"Now, they change the security codes every three hours," he's explaining to April as he points at one of the many screens set up on the desk. "Our best bet is to enter from the east at eleven. The codes switch and it's a shift change for the security guards. Leo thinks they can get in without being seen if they take this route here."

There are dark circles under his eyes and a slight tremble to his movements, but it doesn't seem to matter. There's a glint in his eyes and he's something I have seen in a while; happy. April rests her hand on his shoulder and leans forward to get a better look. A smile tugs at the corner of my brother's mouth and I'm suddenly uncomfortable. I shouldn't be standing there and staring like some kinda weirdo. He's made it clear he doesn't want any help and she seems to think she's got it covered without us. Whatever, I'll leave them to it.

"Everyone can relax, Casey Jones has arrived!"

I grin at the loud, obnoxious greeting and turn my back on my brother and April. I walk down the stairs towards the couches and punch Casey's shoulder in greeting. He laughs and punches back. I'm glad there's finally someone else here with some common sense.

"So, we got some bad guys to stomp?" he asks, taking another swing which I easily avoid.

"Here's hoping," I reply, tagging him in the small of his back.

"Could someone give me a hand with this?" April calls out.

Casey rushes over and hoists the cannon from her arms. Donnie pared it down enough so we can carry it into the warehouse. The contraption still looks clunky and heavy. I'm glad I'm not the one who will have to lug it around.

"Oh, she's beautiful," Mikey coos and I can feel my eyes rolling. He is getting on my last nerve today.

Mikey takes the cannon from Casey and heaves it up onto his shoulder with a grin. "I'm gonna call her Sheila," he says with a whirl, testing the weight of it.

"Sheila?" Donnie says, rolling through the lab doors on his idiotic chair canoe.

Mikey shrugs. "Yeah, she looks like a Sheila."

"You're sure this thing will work?" Leo asks, running a tentative hand along the canon.

Donnie gets that pinched look on his face, the one he wears when someone questions one of his toys. As if it is so farfetched that he might make something that doesn't work or something that blows up and kills us all.

"Of course it'll work," he says, scooting closer to the stairs.

"Dude it already did work," Mikey says with another whirl before striking a pose.

Leo doesn't look amused. "All right," he says with a stiff nod. "We're leaving in ten," he cranes his neck to look up at Donnie on the top of the stairs. "You're into the system?"

He nods and that glint is back. "Anything their cameras can see I can see," he replies. "I'll be able to keep you guys away from trouble."

"Trouble is the whole reason I agreed to come along," Casey snickers, punching the back of my arm.

Leo doesn't say anything else. He nods and goes off to do whatever it is Leo does before a big mission, meditate or talk to himself in a mirror, probably. I feel my shoulder drop when Casey leans against it, the sports equipment on his back rattling with his movement. He looks over at Donatello, his war paint only making his smile more leering.

"D, you look like shit," he says with a laugh that is cut short when he notices Master Splinter is still in earshot. "I mean crap."

"Thanks, Casey," he mutters, pushing his staff on the ground to turn the chair. "Come and get your earpiece. You too, Raph."

I feel my mouth turn down into a frown. I've been putting this off. Casey is already giving Donnie a hard time by the time I meander my way up the stairs into the lab. April is helping him fit the earpiece on Casey's head, rolling her eyes with every snickered argument.

"Do I really have to wear this?" he asks, thrashing his head around in an attempt to shake the earbud loose, like a dog throwing off water.

"Yes," Donnie replies evenly. "You all need to stay in contact."

"Why?" he says, leaning close to the computers to inspect the screens.

"Because I'll be able to see the security feed and you won't," Donnie says.

He's getting annoyed. The glint is gone and it's replaced with that twitch and curl of his lip that shows up right before he loses it and yells. I'm not in the mood for one of his freak outs and if Casey keeps threatening to touch those screens that's exactly where we're headed.

"Where's mine? We don't got all day," I grumble.

He motions for the table and I lift the small device to my ear, lacing the short, curved piece of plastic around my mask to keep it in place.

"You press it along the side when you want to talk," he explains. "They're on a different wave than the security, so…"

"All I need to know is press here to talk," I mutter, cutting him off before he goes into a twenty minute long explanation of every wire and piece of plastic. "You just let us know what's coming, brother," I say, clasping his good hand in a strong grip. "We're taking these creeps down."

He gives my hand a squeeze, but there's doubt in his eyes. "Be careful," he says quietly. His eyes dart to the side and he obviously doesn't want Casey overhearing. "Don't touch any of the stuff in the containers. Don't let any of the others touch it either. You get in, open the containers and set the explosives."

"That's the plan," I reply, letting his hand drop.

That's Leo's plan and Master Splinter's. I have my own. No one hurts my family and gets away with it. Blowing up their compound isn't retribution enough for what they did or what they're planning to do. Not anywhere near enough. I've got the boss lady's number. She hurt my family so it's only right that I hurt her's.

There are a few more hurried explanations and promises to be careful between those of us going and those staying behind. Master Splinter says something about honor and commitment, but I'm not really paying attention. I have my own way to get ready and it has nothing to do with speeches. Leonardo leads the way to the Shellraiser and even Mikey keeps the chatter to a minimum as we ride towards the surface.

"Testing," Donnie's voice crackles to life in my ear. "Count off."

"One," Leo says, lifting his hand from the steering wheel to tap the side of his ear piece.

The rest of us count off in turn before falling into uncomfortable silence once more. We park a few blocks away and climb up to the rooftop for a better vantage point. It must be cold because Casey pulls up his hood and Mikey's teeth are chattering. I don't feel it. I don't care. My muscles tense and I teeter on the edge. Rage is waiting for me if I lean too far, so I dig my heels in and try to keep a somewhat level head. I'll need that place later.

We drop down onto the roof and the earpieces crackle to life once more.

"Okay, you have eight minutes until eleven o'clock," Donnie says. "There are only two guards at the loading dock, no trucks."

"Do you have the pass code?" Leo asks.

"Just about…" Donnie mumbles and I can hear him punching the keyboard. "One more…got it," he says with a short clip to his words. "785329," he says, sounding rather pleased with himself. "You need to get moving if you're going to reach the first security door on time. Don't try until eleven. You'll set off the alarm if you punch in the new code too soon."

It must be killing him to have to sit back and count on us following directions.

Leo raises his hand and we move forward in silence. There isn't the commotion from the night before and part of me thinks we might be too late. Leo and I should have moved on this the first night we came here. Sure we didn't have the security codes, but that has never stopped us before. They're just humans. We could have done something. Leo motions with his right hand and Casey takes off across the roof with a grin, ready to plant the explosives around the outside of the building.

My brothers and I lurk above the loading dock, the two guards pacing a few feet below. We make quick and silent work of them, dragging their unconscious bodies away from the entrance before climbing up into the duct work where we make a sharp left and wait above the heavy security door for our signal. Mikey fidgets beside me, the sound cannon strapped to his back scraping the ceiling in the low space.

"Okay, eleven," Donnie says and we move.

Leo punches in the code and I hold my breath, half expecting an alarm to blare and a swat team to descend. Instead the lock opens with a click and a soft hiss of the seal breaking. It's as though we've walked into a different building. The musty smell and exposed beams of the warehouse are gone and it's all polished surfaces and bright lights. If Donnie's calculations are correct they're keeping the mutagen containers in the basement. That's where Leo is headed. I have other plans. He can waste his time popping cans with Mikey. If you want to kill a snake you cut off his head.

I make a sharp right and move down the hallway at a run. Leo hisses after me, but doesn't raise his voice as I knew he wouldn't. I have a decent head start and I'm sure to reach my destination before my brothers catch up. Although one brother is already watching my every move. There's a crackle in my ear followed by Donnie's shrill voice.

"Raph, what are you doing?! The basement is the other way!"

I press the side of the earpiece and mutter. "I'm not going to the basement."

"Whatever you think you have to do, you don't. Stop and think about this. We have a plan, Leo…"

"Leo isn't ready to do what needs to be done," I mutter, sliding to a halt in front of another security door and punching in the code. "Keep the cameras off me, Donnie. I got this. Help Leo and Mikey."

"Raphael, don't…"

I rip the earpiece out and tuck it into my belt. I don't need him to try and convince me to stop. I've got this. I'll do what has to be done. I'm sliding into the red place and when usually that clouds all of my thoughts tonight it has them laser focused. I slip through the door and close it behind me before my brothers can reach me. It locks into place and I slide a knife into the handle to keep them from opening it without making noise. Leo won't risk it or at least I hope he won't.

"Raph!" I can barely make out Mikey's scared whisper from the other side. "Dude, come on, what are you doing? Open the door!"

"We have to complete the mission!" Leonardo adds angrily. "Open the door!"

"I am completing the mission," I mutter and I don't care if he hears me.

He wasn't the only one who studied those blue prints. I know exactly where I am and exactly where I need to go. I thought he understood. That's fine. I don't need an audience for this. I lean forward, slip over the edge and see red.


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back to Donnie POV

Chapter 25

"Raph! Raph! Dammit!" I cry, watching him rip out the earpiece.

_No, no, no._

He wouldn't be this stupid, he couldn't be! He's going to ruin the whole plan. He's going to get himself killed and for what? I push along the desk to find the screen that shows my other brothers and press the channel for Leo's communicator. My heart is hammering in my chest and I feel helpless and so very far away.

"Leo, you have to open that door. You have to stop him," I say and try without much success to keep from raising my voice.

"He's got the door blocked somehow," Leo replies with a grunt. "We'll go around. How can we cut him off?"

I look over at April and she's already tracing her finger along the blueprints, trying to find the best route. She takes hold of my face and pulls me forward so she can speak into the microphone of my headset.

"Leo, there should be an airshaft about eight feet back from where you're standing," she says. "Head east and make your first right."

"Is there any way you guys can slow him down?" Leo asks, already moving.

I duck my head to pull out of April's grip and search the camera feeds to find Raphael. He's heading towards the office block. There's only one reason why he would be going that way and it makes my insides turn to ice. He'll reach a security door soon. Frantically I look over the schematics to find the number for the door. If I can override the lock I can keep him from going any further, even with the code.

_7146!_

"I can lock the door," I say, typing as fast as I can with my one hand.

He's punching in the code and the mechanism light turns green. I type in the override and the lock slides back to red. Relief, tentative and fragile starts to warm the cold dread in my stomach. I can't hear him, but I'm sure he's cursing. He types in the code again, moving to pull open the door and I override the lock once more. It would have been funny if he wasn't in mortal danger. He punches and kicks the door and pulls on the handle, leaning his foot against the wall for leverage.

His hands drop from the handle and his head swivels slowly around the ceiling until he spots the security camera. I wince as though he might hit me through the screen. He pulls out his communicator from his belt and slides it into his ear. He reaches up to press the button and his voice is even and more than a little scary as he stares daggers.

"Is that you?" he asks.

I swallow back my nerves and steady my voice. "Yes."

"I'm not playing around here, Donatello," he says, the words more like a growl. "Open the damn door."

"And you think I'm playing?" I reply, feeling the dread start to build again when Leo and Mikey vanish from sight into the air ducts. "We have a mission, Raphael. Who knows how many people are going to get hurt if…"

"Donnie."

The fear in April's voice makes any lingering relief a distant memory. She's staring straight ahead at the screen in front of her, wide eyed and pale. I roll my chair over to see for myself. Guards. At least a dozen, all carrying what appear to be automatic weapons. My computer gives a shrill series of beeps and I roll over to the keyboard and the main monitor.

_No, no, no!_

"Raph, get out of there right now!" I shout when he starts to argue. "There are guards and they've discovered my trace. You have to get out of there now. Get into the vents. Leo and Mikey…"

I swallow back any further instruction, wincing at the sound of the guards descending into the hallway before Raph drops his hand from the earpiece and I'm left to stare in silence. The camera feed is disrupted by white smoke, blocking my brother from view. They're trying to gas him out. I have to do something. I can't sit here and…

_Sprinklers!_

I type in a series of commands. They might have detected my presence in the security system, but they haven't managed to kick me out. I won't let them. I scroll through the alarms and find the sprinkler system. They burst to life and rain down water in the hallway, dispersing the worst of the gas. I can see Raph again. He's crouching along the wall, his hand covering his mouth and nose. I move back to the screen with the locks and open the door.

"Raph, the door is open. Run!" I cry, hoping the earpiece is still working.

He struggles to his feet, pushing off the wall and stumbles towards the door.

"Leo, Raph is pinned down. About a dozen guards with guns," I say, switching to Leonardo's channel. "How close are you guys?"

"We've gone about twenty yards," he replies, his voice muffled and cutting out every so often.

_They're not close enough._

Raph moves in slow motion. The guards are only a few feet away with their weapons raised. He staggers and falls through the open door into the hallway beyond and out of sight of the security camera. I quickly lock the door behind him.

"Raph? Raph, are you all right?" I ask.

April stands beside me, her hand closed tightly around my arm. He doesn't answer. Not right away and the seconds feel like an eternity while we wait. I let out a breath when I hear his communicator crackle to life.

"Who is this?" a cold female voice asks and April's grip tightens.

I don't answer. I desperately search the camera feeds to find the new hallway.

"The sprinklers, the doors, was that you?" she asks and even though her voice is cavalier I sense an anger behind it. "You hacked our security system. That's impressive. Stupid, but impressive."

_There!_

Raph is lying on the ground. He's not moving and I feel sick inside. There are five guards standing in riot gear with their weapons trained on his prone body. The woman with the cold voice lingers over him, nudging him with the toe of her high-heeled boot. She snaps her fingers and points at my brother. Two of the guards move forward and lift him to his knees where they bind his arms behind his back.

"Are you watching?" she asks, turning his face towards the security camera.

Raph's communicator is held in her hand and even through the slightly grainy video feed I can see the cold, calculating look in her eyes. She's in charge and we've underestimated her. We never should have gone in. We weren't ready. We aren't ready and now she has the upper hand. Now she has my brother.

"They told me about these…abominations," she says, leaning over to lift up Raph's chin to get a better look at his face. "I have to admit I didn't believe it, but this," she laughs and there is no happiness behind it. "I suppose seeing is believing," she says, letting go of Raph's face and letting his chin fall back to his chest. "Are you a freak too, eyes in the sky?" she asks and I take in a breath and lean back from the screen, silent. "It isn't wise to ignore me," she adds. "I know you're there. I can hear you breathing."

"Let him go," I say, my voice far more animalistic than I would like.

"Make me," she says back with a sneer.

She slides a pistol from the holster at her hip and fires a single shot at the camera sending the screen crashing to black. I flinch and stare at the blank screen, hoping beyond reason that the picture will flicker back to life and Raph will have escaped. The communicator crackles in my ear and I want to rip it off my head and throw it to the ground.

"If you've managed to hack our security system I'm sure you've been poking around in our other files, taking things. I have very little patience for thieves. Especially thieves who hide behind their computer screens and send others in to do their dirty work," she says, each word hinting at a thinly veiled threat.

"I didn't steal…"

"You'll bring me everything you've taken," she growls and the cool anger is replaced with something bordering rage. "Every print out, every hard drive I want any piece of equipment you used to weasel your way in here and if you try to keep anything or don't show your face, coward I will rip apart your freak here and scatter the pieces in the East River. Bring it to the private entrance on the western side of the warehouse. I believe you know the way. You have four hours."

I wince at the reverb when she switches off the communicator. April's fingers are crushing on my arm and I'm sure they'll leave a bruise. I don't care. It doesn't matter. I'm going to be sick. I search every camera feed I can find for even a hint of my brother or his captors. Several of the screens have gone black and I'm sure that woman is covering her tracks. She knows I'm watching and doesn't want me to see what she has planned. We underestimated her.

"L-Leo?" I say, struggling to get his name out.

"We're…almost there," Leo's crackling voice replies.

"They have Raph," I say and my stomach drops when he takes a few moments to respond.

"What do you mean?" he replies and I know he heard me, but he doesn't want to believe it. I don't want to believe it either.

"The guards and…and that woman," I explain. "They have him. They're," I swallow and pinch my eyes shut. "They're going to hurt him. She knows, Leo. She knows about us and she's going to hurt him."

There's another awful pause and when he speaks again it's with his stern leader voice and this time it doesn't bother me one bit. "No, she's not," he says evenly. "Find out where they're holding him. We'll break him out and then burn this place to the ground."

I nod, forgetting he can't see me. "Right," I say quietly. "You and Mikey stay put."

_They'll get captured too. She's one step ahead. They're on her turf._

I change the channel on the communicator. "Casey? Are you in position?" I ask surprised at how steady my voice is.

"We ready to blow this place, D?" he replies, sounding a little too excited about the prospect.

"No, hold off," I reply. "Stay where you are. April and I will be there soon."

"What?" he replies in unison with April.

"They have Raph," I explain.

He doesn't have to hear anything else. He understands. He won't try to talk me out of it.

"Get over here," he growls. There's nothing else left to say.

I take off my headset and push away from the desk. I have a lot of work to do and not a lot of time to do it in. I grab my T-Phone and a tablet, connecting them to the tower on the main computer. I need to transfer the files. I need backups for my backups and a way to still maintain control of the security system once I leave the lair. She can have the hard drive and she can also have the virus I'll attach to her precious files.

"What are you doing?" April asks and I jump at her sudden voice, so intent on the task at hand I almost forgot I wasn't alone.

"Making a Trojan horse," I mutter, setting to work.

"You can't go to the warehouse," she says and her voice wavers.

My hand pauses for only a moment before I lower my head and get back to work.

_She doesn't understand._

"Donnie," she says, resting her hand on top of mine. "Donatello…"

"What do you want me to do, April?" I ask, forcing myself to meet her gaze. "Sit back and let them kill my brother?"

"And what happens if you hand over this stuff to that woman?" she replies, not backing down under my accusing tone. "Do you think she's going to let Raph go? Do you think she's going to let you go?"

Her voice holds a shrill edge and her fingers tighten around my wrist. "You can't go," she says and my heart aches deep in my chest. "I just got you back."

I lean my forehead against hers and let my eyes drift closed. I breathe in her scent and it's flowers and sunshine and everything good in the world. I don't want to hurt her. That's the absolute last thing I want to do. She leans against me and I want to wrap my arms around her and tell her everything will be all right. I can't get the words out. I can't lie to her.

"I don't have a choice," I murmur, wincing when she makes a tiny pained noise in her throat. "This is my fault. I have to fix it."

She pushes back and my skin feels cold where she's no longer touching me. Her eyes are wild and anger tints her skin a light pink. "What are you talking about? How is this your fault? Raphael…"

"Only went after those people because he thought he had to get revenge," I reply and my explanation does nothing to calm the growing storm in her eyes. "Revenge for…for what they did to me."

She takes hold of my face and I can't look away even though the storm is brewing and I'm powerless against it. "You are not responsible for your brother's actions," she says and her grip tightens. "You are not responsible for any of this. Those people, that woman, it's their fault. Not yours."

I kiss her. There isn't time. I have work to do, but a terrible, clawing worry settles in my chest and I'm afraid this might be my last chance. She kisses back and for one fleeting moment there's only her and me clinging to each other with desperate mouths and searching hands. When we break apart it's a struggle to catch my breath and even more so to find any words that are even mildly coherent.

"I have to go," I say quietly, my voice rough and struggling. "But, I can't…I'll need your help, April. I won't be able to…to do this on my own."

_You can barely stand, probably won't be able to do it with help either. Pathetic._

She leans in again and kisses me. It's soft and quick and makes me forget the shame of admitting my own limitations. "You won't have to," she insists and the fire is back in her eyes. "We'll figure this out together. Like we always do," she kisses me on the forehead and sets her mouth in a determined line. "Let's get to work."


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is split between April and Donnie POV

Chapter 26

April

He hurts. I can feel the pain coming off of him in waves. Every step is a struggle and a permanent grimace is carved across his face. We shouldn't be doing this. He shouldn't be doing this. He should be in bed resting, not hobbling through dark alleyways and fighting just to stay standing. It's cold enough to see my breath on the air and the temperature is only making things worse for him. Before we went above ground I convinced him to at least wear something against the cold, but even with the sweatshirt the air is causing a slight tremble to run through his body.

"Keep the hood up," I say quietly when he pushes it down onto his shoulders.

"It pulls on my shell," he murmurs with a pout.

I try not to smile. There isn't time for him to be adorable right now. "It's freezing out," I insist, standing on my tiptoes in an attempt to pull the hood back up. "You're shivering. You need to keep your head covered."

"April is right," Master Splinter says and I'm sure I look quite smug in response.

It's weird to have Sensei with us on a mission, but he had more than insisted. I thought for sure he was going to make Donnie stay behind when he came into the lab and saw the two of us packing away the print outs and computer parts. Instead he grew almost frighteningly quiet when we explained the situation. Now he lingered next to us, his own hood pulled up over his head with just his nose and whiskers visible beyond the shadow cast by the material. I feel better about our odds with him at our side.

The warehouse looms dark and foreboding across the street. There's no turning back now. I jump at the sound of Casey dropping ungracefully from the fire escape overhead. My nerves are shot and I hope the shadows kept anyone from noticing. He straightens his gear and pushes his mask up on top of his head, eyes wide and surprised at the sight of Master Splinter.

"So, we're in big trouble, huh?" he says and part of me wishes he would fake bravado like he always does instead.

"No, no we have a plan," Donnie says.

He'd be easier to believe if his teeth weren't chattering. He swings his backpack to the front, fumbling awkwardly with the zipper. I reach over and help. He pulls out a plastic bag with what looks like an over-sized vitamin, except for the fact that one end blinks with a dull, red light. He holds it in his palm for a moment before taking a deep breath a popping it into his mouth. He struggles to swallow and then sticks out his tongue with obvious distaste.

"Dude," Casey says and there's an uneasy laugh behind the exclamation.

"It's a tracker," he explains. "They're most definitely going to search me so I can't exactly wear one."

"That's hardcore," Casey says with an approving nod.

Master Splinter makes a disapproving noise in the back of his throat and all other conversations come to a halt. "Where are your brothers?" he asks with a slow breath through his nose.

Donnie takes his T-Phone out of the front pocket of his sweatshirt and slides his thumb across the screen. He hands it over to Master Splinter and points to the two small dots among the complicated lines of the schematics.

"That's Mikey and Leo," he explains. "They're in the vents. That's why their position overlaps with the blueprints. Once I'm inside there should be a third light. Wait until my light stops moving before you rush in. We want to make sure they bring me to Raph first. Leo is on channel one of your communicator, but try for as much radio silence as possible. We can't be sure they're not listening in," he says, grimacing and looking nervous. "I mean…if you think that's best, Sensei," he murmurs, clearly uncomfortable giving any sort of order or direction to his father.

Master Splinter nods and rests his hand on Donnie's shoulder. He doesn't say anything and I don't think he needs to. We all understand the danger involved; the risk and the likelihood of failure. His hand tightens before letting go and he holds his son's gaze with another nod. I look away. There's something painfully private about the exchange and I feel like I'm intruding by watching.

Donnie's hand slips into mine and I instinctively maneuver my five fingers to grasp around his three. I don't want him to go. He shouldn't go. This is insane. They're going to capture him like they captured Raphael. They're going to hurt him. I'm never going to see him again. It isn't fair and it isn't right and I feel anger and indignation start to burn bright in my chest. I can't let him see the fire building inside of me. I can't beg him to reconsider. He has to go and I can't hold him back, because if I asked him to stay…if I begged him to stay, he might.

"Be careful," I say and the words are little more than a whisper.

"You too," he murmurs.

We don't say goodbye. There aren't any declarations of love or promises to return. His hand slips from mine and I close my fingers into a fist. The _click, click, click_ of his bo staff on the wet pavement drums in my chest and echoes painfully on the inside of my skull. He can't walk without leaning on it for support. He shouldn't be doing this. I'm never going to see him again. I'm running after him. Panic has control of my feet and I couldn't stop them if I wanted to. I don't want to. I reach him before he steps off the curb and only stand and stare up at him once my hand is wrapped tightly around his wrist.

"Come back," I say and I lean forward to rest against his chest, the sensation oddly unfamiliar with the soft sweatshirt covering his plastron. "Promise me you'll come back."

I hate myself for saying it. He's worried enough. He's hurt and scared and now I put this on him. I was supposed to be strong. I was supposed to help, not make him feel guilty. He pries me away from his chest and tilts my chin up to force my gaze.

"I promise," he says and when the streetlamp catches the determined look in his eyes I believe him.

He kisses me and I reach up to pull him close. It's not the frantic, desperate embrace we shared in the lab or the heated exploration in my apartment. It's soft and sincere and a promise of things to come. I wish it could last forever and can't help but feel a twinge of disappointment when it doesn't. I lower my heels back to the pavement and let my hand linger for one more moment on the side of his face.

"You got this," I say and my strength is back. "Show these people what happens when they hurt our family."

He blinks and something close to a smile breaks through his tired expression. "Our family," he repeats and I smile back at him with a nod.

Donatello

The walk across the street takes an eternity or at least it feels like it does. The bag draped over my shoulder bumps and slides awkwardly over my shell and even with the sling my injured hand jostles and pains at every labored step. It doesn't matter. I have to do this. I can do this. I got this.

_She called you family._

There's a warm flutter in my chest and I fight back the urge to grin like an idiot. There will be time for that later. Right now I need to focus. The warehouse is dark and quiet and more than a little intimidating. The private entrance along the western wall is even more so and I strain my eyes in the darkness to make sure no one is waiting for me in the shadows. I reach the door and blink back the sudden glare of a floodlight blaring to life above my head. My communicator gives a faint crackle in my ear and I brace myself for the cold voice I know will follow.

"Cutting it a little close, aren't we?" she asks.

"You said under four hours, it's under four hours," I reply, shifting uncomfortably in front of the locked door.

She doesn't respond straight away and I'm sure she believes making me wait will only make me more afraid.

_She's not entirely wrong._

"How old are you?"

The question catches me completely off guard and I reply in a voice that sounds anything but mature.

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"You sound like a child," she replies evenly and there's a disgusted little laugh following the words. "The supposedly unbeatable security system that I spent an obscenely large amount of money on was cracked by a child. You can see how that would…irritate me. Can't you, little boy?"

I understand how Raphael can lose control in that moment. How words can push you over the edge into a place full of nothing but rage and violent thoughts.

_Call me child one more time._

"I brought what you asked for," I sneer, dropping the bag onto the ground in front of the door. "I did what you asked, now let him go."

She pauses again and I lean against my staff while I wait. The door opens and I don't have time to react. They grab hold of my arms and I cry out when one of them comes close to my injured wrist. My knees hit the pavement and I see stars. Something is thrown over my head and they drag me forward, the door slamming shut behind us. My feet touch the ground but I'm not moving forward of my own momentum. The pain only grows with each passing second and my entire focus is now honed in on staying conscious.

_You're going to pass out. This was a horrible, stupid, awful idea. Idiot._

I don't know how long we walk. I try to count the turns, try to mentally picture myself moving through the sharp lines of the schematic to gain my bearings. I can't. There's a fleeting moment of relief when the hands let go and I crumple to the ground in a heap. I clutch my arm to my chest and lean forward. I couldn't stand if I wanted to and that thought brings nothing but shame and panic.

_Trapped._

The bag is ripped from my head and I close my eyes against the sudden intrusion of light. I force myself to open my eyes. I need to take in my surroundings. There is cold, hard tile beneath me and it makes kneeling all the more painful. The walls are concrete and unrelenting, garish electric light shines down from the ceiling making every surface pulse with illumination. It brings with it an instant headache and the sterile, unwelcoming tinge of an operating room.

_Click, click, click._

There is a pair of black, heeled boots standing in front of me. One starts to tap out an annoyed pattern with the toe. I try to scramble backwards, but it's no use. I fall onto my backside and the bottom of my shell makes a loud cracking sound against the tile. She takes hold of my face in a grip I wouldn't expect possible from such a slender hand. The cold voice has cold eyes to match and I'm reminded more than a little of a snake.

"Do you see this, Carter?" she asks and I realize we have quite the audience.

The man, who I assume is Carter, stands a few feet removed. He's huge, with a crew cut and a square jaw. The woman barely comes up to his chest and yet when she lets go of my face and turns her attention towards him he shrinks under her gaze. She snaps and points at me.

"This…thing," she says, rolling the last word over her tongue in obvious disgust. "Hacked your security system in…" she snaps her fingers again. "How long did it take you?" she asks.

I blink, slowly realizing she is asking me.

"What?"

She takes a deep breath, clearly not used to anything but instant gratification. "How long did it take you to break through our security system?" she repeats, drawing out each word as if I'm simple.

I can feel my jaw tighten and anger starts to win out again in the battle with pain.

"A few hours."

She turns and lifts her chin a few centimeters to properly glare at the larger man. "Did you hear that, Carter?" she asks and despite all logic and my better judgment I feel a little sorry for the big guy. "Your 'impenetrable system,'" she sneers, throwing up air quotes around the words. "Was dismantled in a few hours by…by that," she growls, pointing at me once more. "A…a child. Not only a child, Carter. An animal. An affront to nature. Would you like to explain to me, how you were bested by a talking turtle?" she asks, following the question with a sharp laugh.

Carter opens and closes his mouth, but offers no explanation beyond a few scared vowel sounds. She waves her hand and three guards descend, grabbing hold of his arms and dragging him through the door on the opposite wall. I shudder at the muffled sounds of screaming once the door slides shut.

"Now I'm going to have to hire a new head of security," she grumbles, inspecting the state of her nails with an annoyed sigh.

_She's completely insane._

"Yes, Amelia, that is our biggest concern at the moment," a slender blond man mutters from his place leaning against the wall.

His head is down, his eyes scanning over the phone held in his hand. Every muscle and lazy scroll of his finger on the screen screams boredom. He doesn't seem to notice, or care, that she's glaring daggers at him. The tapping of her boot grows louder and more persistent and he finally has no choice but to take notice. He raises his head and takes his time sliding his phone into the pocket of his suit coat. He straightens his glasses and lets out a sigh.

I don't have time to move before he's on me. The strike to my face snaps my head to the side and I taste blood in my mouth. I can't use my injured hand to catch myself and so instead slump over onto my shoulder. It takes me one painful moment to process what is happening and yet another to realize that Raphael isn't in the room. This is all for nothing. His shiny dress shoe catches the light and it moves swiftly out of my line of vision.

_He's going to kick you! Move!_

I roll out of the way and catch the boot in the top of my leg instead of my torso where he aimed. I clench my jaw and manage to remain silent until another kick hits its mark and the air leaves my lungs with a pained grunt. My eyes water and I curl forward, clutching my stomach where the blow landed. I don't have time to warm to the new pain. He grabs hold of the back of my sweatshirt and pulls me up to sitting.

"Look, Amelia," he says with a smile, flipping the hood over my head. "It thinks it's people."

"We won't get anything from it if you kick it to death," she mutters.

He takes a step back and pulls the handkerchief from his jacket pocket to clean his glasses. "You really think it is going to be any more forthcoming than the other one?"

_Raph._

Cold, squirming dread settles like a rock in the pit of my stomach. They hurt him. I knew they must have, but the reality is far worse than the assumption. An assumption can be wrong. I try not to let my emotions show. A ninja has control over his body.

_She sees right through you._

"Oh, I think it will be," she says.

"He," I growl and she raises one, delicate eyebrow.

"Excuse me?"

"Stop calling me it."

_This is not the battle to fight. You have more important things to worry about, idiot!_

She looks genuinely surprised at my demand and the slender blond man amused.

"All right then," she says slowly. "Fredric, the bag," she says, holding out her hand expectantly while never taking her eyes off of me.

The blond man chuckles and grabs my bag off the nearby metal table. He drops it at her feet and she nudges it towards me.

"I thought you weren't taking anything," she says. "That's what you said, isn't it? So, not only are you a thief, but a liar also."

I stare at the bag and remain silent. Neither of them looks amused any more.

"You're going to show us how you broke into our system," she explains and the cold voice is back. "And you're going to tell us why."

"And if I don't?" I ask, even though I very much already know the answer.

She smiles and reaches into her jacket pocket. Part of me thinks she's reaching for a gun and I'm determined not to flinch. Instead she pulls out a phone.

"Marcus, bring in the other one," she says, slipping the phone back into her pocket without waiting for a reply.

_Raph._

The door opens and they drag my brother into the room. Even though his head hangs down towards his chest they have still chosen to bind his arms and legs. I feel a small sense of pride that he must have given them a decent fight. He's bruised and bloodied and unconscious, but he's alive. He's breathing and now we're in the same room. Master Splinter and my brothers can use the tracker. They can find us. No one has to die here tonight. I don't let my hope show. They want me scared, pliant. So that's what I'll be. I'll stall.

"I don't think I have to explain to you what will happen if you don't," she drawls.

I shake my head and wipe at the trail of blood flowing from my split lip. I do my best to look afraid, to show her what she wants to see. She smiles her cold, snake smile and goes to fetch a slim, silver laptop from the table. She thinks she has me in a corner. She thinks she has me trapped. She's underestimated me. I'm smarter than her. She's about to find out what happens when someone hurts my family. I've got this.


	27. Chapter 27

Chapter 27

_Click, click, click._

I meander through lines of code and skirt the edge of the company's database. I take my time and only receive an increasing glower for my efforts. Her annoyed toe-tap starts to fall in time with my keystrokes. I'm sure I can only keep this up for a little while longer. She isn't patient and the more time that passes the more I start to worry that maybe the cavalry isn't coming. Maybe the tracker didn't work or maybe they got captured by guards. My eyes flicker from the screen over to Raphael and I curse myself for doing so when I realize she saw me do it.

"Focus," she says, slapping me upside the head.

It makes me tremble in anger. It's the kind of hit you reserve for someone you deem beneath you and she smiles when it riles me to anger. Fredrick, the tall blond man is ratting through the bag I brought from the lair. He pulls out the blueprints and schematics, holding them in front of his eyes like a newspaper. He pushes his glasses up his nose with one finger and stares down at me over the top of the frames.

"What were you looking for in the basement?" he asks.

I stare straight ahead at the computer and remain silent. It doesn't endear me to either of them.

"What happened to your arm?" he asks, rustling the papers and setting them aside.

"Shark attack," I say, regretting it the instant the sneered words leave my mouth.

Two guards descend on me with little more than a nod from Fredrick. I manage to land a kick on one in my panic, but my head meeting the concrete puts a stop to any further attempts to fight back. Stars explode behind my eyes and a dull ringing settles on my ears. I still have enough sense to struggle and the new blossom of pain shooting up my arm stabs through the sudden haze over my thoughts. The rough tearing of muslin sets another wave of panic crashing through me and I pull and kick and try to roll away from the hands holding me to the ground.

_They're going to cut your hand off! Get away! Fight, you idiot!_

"Be still or I will cut your throat," the woman says and the cool touch of a blade against my skin is all the truth I need behind the threat.

She cuts away the rest of the muslin and when the air touches the open wound a groan passes my lips. Someone prods at the skin and I can't hold back a strangle cry. I bit down on my lip. A cold laugh answers my pain and I close my eyes in hopes of holding off any possible tears.

"We lost some of our shipment a few days ago," Fredrick says, pressing down on my wrist. "You wouldn't happen to know anything about that, little turtle. Would you?"

I cry out again. I can't help it. It's guttural and hoarse and only upholds their taunts against my lack of humanity.

"Because these spots look awfully familiar. Did you touch something you shouldn't have? You know what they say about curiosity…"

"N-no," I croak out the word if only to shut him up. "I didn't…it was an accident. We found the containers…"

"So you thought you'd come here and steal the rest?" the woman asks with a growl. "Thought you could just waltz in here and take what's mine?"

She presses her thumb into my wrist and my vision goes white. I think I'm screaming again, I can't be sure. My entire body goes rigid and I have the uneasy feeling that I might have thrown up.

"Amelia," Fredrick says with a sigh and the pressure releases from my wrist.

They're not holding me down anymore, but they don't need to. I couldn't move if I tried. I manage to pull my hand up against my chest and curl onto my side. They're arguing. I can't focus on the words and I'm afraid I might lose consciousness. I can't do that. Master Splinter and my brothers will be here soon. They have to be. I have to stay awake. I have to. There's a rustle of chains to my left and I think they're going to bind me until I hear a groggy yet familiar groan.

_Raph._

"Donnie?" he says and his voice shakes around the edges.

"Well, look who decided to join us," Fredrick says. "I thought that last knock to your head might have done you in for good."

"T-take more than a couple rent a cops to bring me down," Raph says, the tremble to his voice making it hard to believe his boasting.

He laughs and I hear another rattle of chains as he pulls against his bonds. I blink back the tears in my eyes and try to find the bag from the lair. Everything is blurry and too bright and the floor is wet beneath my head.

_You're bleeding, genius. Probably have a concussion too. Just close your eyes at this point, you've already screwed things up. Wait for someone to come save you. Pathetic._

No. I got this. I just have to keep going for a few more minutes. So what if it hurts. All I've known for the last few days is pain. I should be used to it by now. I lift my chin and stare out across the tile floor. The movement sends a dizzying pain from my temple down into the base of my skull. I fight back a wave of nausea and try to push up onto my knees. I'll crawl if I have to.

"Oh, look at this, Amelia. Looks like we have a flight risk on our hands."

There's a hand on the hood of my sweatshirt and not for the first time that evening I curse the fact that I'm wearing it. He pulls me up to sitting, the collar of the shirt pressing against my throat and making me gag. Raph yells and rattles his chains. Amelia is kneeling in front of me, her cold, snake eyes even with my own. She snaps and holds up a finger in a perverse imitation of a doctor checking for a head injury.

"Think we might have broken this one," she says, moving her finger slowly from left to right before slapping me across the face. "Maybe I'll keep him anyway. I've always thought a pet would liven up my office waiting room. What do you think, freak? I'll get you a nice tank to live in. Give people something to stare at while they wait."

"Get the hell away from him!" Raph growls.

His demands are answered by a swift kick to the stomach and the air leaves his lungs in a grunting swoosh.

"Not that one though," Amelia says, taking hold of my face and leaning in to whisper. "I'm going to rip him out of his shell and hang it on my wall. Maybe right over your tank."

I want to say something back, but I can't seem to get my tongue to form words. So instead I sway slightly to the left and let my head bob down towards my chest. The laptop is shoved into my hand and the glow of the screen drags me back from the edge of unconsciousness. I have a job to do. I motion weakly in the general direction of where I last saw the bag and I breathe a tiny sigh of relief when Fredrick drops it beside me.

"Show me where the holes are in our security system or I'll let Amelia kill your friend," he says evenly and I believe him.

"Aren't you…going to, to kill him anyway?" I sneer, my common sense leaking out of my head along with the blood on the floor.

He shrugs. "Guess you'll find out."

I search through the bag. Even my left hand is struggling to complete fine motor skills and little stars plague my vision. I try not to let relief wash over my face when my finger brushes up against the flash drive. Amelia is taunting Raph and my brother is doing very little to discourage her. I have to block them out. The small task of sliding the flash drive into the USB port is taking all of my focus to complete and I don't know how much longer my captives will have patience with my slow pace. The drive clicks into place, but the sound is drowned out by something far more worrisome; gunfire.

_Sensei._

"Keep working," Fredrick warns, stretching to his full height.

Amelia is already on the phone, threatening whoever is on the other end. I lean forward and type as fast as I can. The virus will do most of the work, but I still have to make sure it is delivered properly. I'll show them where the holes in their security system are. There are plenty. Big, freaking holes big enough to drive a car through. There is more gunfire and the sound of heavy boots running on concreate. I can't pay attention to that. I can't listen for any sign of my brothers or Master Splinter. I have a job to do.

The lights go out. For one frightful moment I think it's my vision failing until the emergency lights flicker to life, low and mournful. Alarms sound and there's an audible pop and hiss when the automatic locks on the doors release. Amelia is screaming now into her phone, pacing in a hurried pattern of clicks across the floor. She leaves the room and her shrill voice echoes down the hallway. I try not to look smug or grin or anything that might give my game away. It doesn't matter. Fredrick sees right through me.

"You," he growls and all pretense of boredom or aloofness are gone with one horrid flare of his nostrils.

I don't have time for anything beyond a pathetic attempt to roll out of his reach. It's futile and ridiculous and ends with a kick to my chest like a wrecking ball. There's a crack and before I can register that it was my plastron he's kicking me again. This time the blow lands just on the edge before the bridge of my shell. The hard surface whines and cracks again and there's pain, brilliant and new and just as unforgiving as the increased agony radiating from my wrist. I can't catch my breath and Fredrick has hold of my shirt again. My head snaps back and I wait for it to meet the ground once more.

There's another round of gunfire and shouting and a metallic clang I can't quite place. Although it sounds familiar, very familiar. The grip on my shirt tightens and the material cuts off the few small breaths I've managed to drag into my lungs. I try to fight back. At least I think I do. Everything is a blur and all I can hear is noise; awful, unrelenting clangs and bangs that pound against my head and make focusing on anything a complete impossibility. The pain is there. That never went away and I almost cling to it for a lifeline in the mess of sound and flashing lights.

_He's strangling you, Genius. Don't just lie there! Fight back!_

"Get away from my son!"

I know that voice. It's furious. You don't want to hear that voice furious. The pressure on my throat lessens and soon the cool ground meets the side of my face. I sputter and cough and manage a few ragged breaths around my newly bruised larynx. I try to pull myself forward. I don't know why, but a sudden need to flee has gripped my thoughts and won't let go until I at least try to run away. There are hands on me again and I kick out, hitting nothing.

"Hey, hey, easy, man. It's me, it's Mikey!"

_Mikey!_

I have never, in all my years, been happier to hear my brother's voice than I am in this moment. His arm slides under my own to keep me sitting, even with his support I feel as though I might crumple into a heap at any moment. I try to kick out to get better bearings, but my foot nudges against something solid. The dim emergency lights and the flashing strobe of the alarms is making it all the more difficult to focus my already impaired vision. It doesn't matter. The thing at my feet is a body. Bloody and unmoving with a head of blond hair and a pair of broken glasses lying beside it. I don't know if he is dead. I don't want to know.

"Donatello."

I look up at the sound of my name, not surprised to find my father kneeling before me. He takes hold of my face in his hands and that noise of disapproval rumbles in his throat. I'm a mess. I know it. That doesn't matter. There's a job to do and we'll never do it sitting around here. Shutting down the security system and saving Raphael were only part one. They have to destroy the containers. All of this has to mean something. We have to win this. I need to win this.

"M-Mikey?" I say, coughing around his name.

"Yeah, I'm right here, man," he says, his voice much closer to my ear than I realized.

"You have to…you and Leo…the s-sound canon."

"It doesn't matter," he stops me and the sternness in his voice catches me off guard. "We have to get you and Raph out of here."

"No," I insist and I might have shouted the word because his grip tightens on my arm. "You have to…to destroy them," I cough and try to stand. "We can't…they c-can't get away with this."

"Donatello is right," Master Splinter says and even through the haze I feel a small sense of pride from his words. "You must complete the mission. I will bring your brothers to safety. Go with Leonardo, destroy the containers."

"Hai, Sensei," Michelangelo breathes and I feel cold when he slips out from under my arm.

The cold doesn't last for long. Master Splinter takes his place and heaves me to my feet. I'm afraid I might be sick and I'm of very little help to keep myself standing. Raph is there too. He tries to avoid my injured hand as best he can as he helps Master Splinter drag me out of that room. My head bobs and I rest my chin down on my chest.

_Go to sleep. Just close your eyes. It's fine. You got this, remember? Mikey and Leo are taking care of it. Hard part is over._

"Donatello."

I cringe at the sharpness of my name, my head snapping up in an instant. I'm surprised that my surroundings have changed so rapidly.

_Weren't we in a room, not a hallway?_

"Stay awake, my son," Master Splinter instructs and I whine and groan in response. "You have injured your head. You need to stay awake. You can rest soon, I promise."

I let out another moan, but somewhere, deep down beyond the haze I know he's right. I have to stay awake. The walk seems to take forever. Every new turn or hallway only leads to more of the same. Our escape isn't without confrontation and I lean against the wall and do my best to stay out of the way as Sensei makes quick work of anyone who tries to stop us. I thought I would be happy to reach the outside, but the cold air only makes breathing more of a chore and sends a fresh round of pain up through the new cracks along my plastron.

_The Shellraiser._

I can see it. Even through my increasingly blurry vision and the tremble the cold has settle on my body, I can see it lurking in the alleyway like a great, hulking vision of beauty. My baby. It'll be dry and warm inside and I can lie down. All I want to do is lie down. The door slides open with its usual welcoming ding and I can already feel the heat pouring out onto the cold night air. There's something even better inside than central heating; April.

She's on me in a second, tentative, small hands fretting over every new injury and some of the old ones as well. She helps Master Splinter get me inside and I don't even care that lying down hurts, because at least it isn't standing. The lights from the consoles twinkle like stars and I wince at another warning from Sensei that I can't fall asleep.

_Why does he keep saying that? You're so tired, just rest your eyes for a moment. It can't hurt._

"Donnie, hey, talk to me," April says and I whimper. "You have to stay awake. Tell me what happened. Did you set off the virus?"

"Y-yeah," I murmur around a swallow that hurts more than a swallow should. "It'll fry the whole system before…before they can stop it."

"Good, that's excellent," she says and I feel a quick press of her lips against my forehead. "You did good."

"Sensei, we're in position," Leo's voice pulls my focus and I try to turn towards the sound of it.

Raphael is blocking my path and I swat half-heartedly at the back of his legs.

"Hiss, pop, boys!" Mikey's overly excited voice shout-whispers in the background.

The radio falls silent again and I think the worst, as I often tend to do. It's an agonizing few minutes before there are any further signs of life and the anxiety is enough to keep me from closing my eyes. I only let myself relax when I hear my brother's calm voice across the communicator.

"Casey?" Leo asks.

"We ready to blow this joint?" Casey answers almost immediately with an added snigger.

"Take it down," Leo replies.

I can't remember how many explosives I rigged. That project seems like a lifetime ago. It must have been a rather obscene amount because the resulting explosion rocks the Shellraiser on its wheels and sets off car alarms for blocks on either side of the warehouse. There are twin, dull thuds as Leo and Mikey land on the roof and Raphael hurries over to let them in.

"All right," Leo says, sliding into the driver seat. "Let's go round up Casey and get out of here."

Home. We can go home now. Where it's warm and safe and this whole mess can be left behind in that burning heap of a building.

_Do you really think this is over? They've got your number now. They'll find you and finish the job._

The dark thoughts are waiting just beyond the hopeful ones with sharp claws and persistent teeth. I don't want to listen to them. I can't listen to them. Not now. We won tonight. We completed the mission, that's all that matters right now. I can't listen, so I do what Sensei told me not to, I close my eyes and let the darkness shut out the world.


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> April POV this time around. She and Raph hash some things out.

Chapter 28

April

The television was on; if for nothing else than to distract from the awkward silence in the room. Master Splinter had Leo and Mikey carried Donatello into the lab the instant we returned to the lair. He was still unconscious, the head wound not as startling as the jagged crack across his plastron. Mikey assured me they could fix it, that this wasn't the first time and probably wouldn't be the last one of them cracked their shell. They wouldn't let me help. No matter how much I insisted. So now I'm sitting on the sofa next to Raphael, attempting to clean up his shallow cuts while the television blares in the background. Part of me wishes Casey hadn't gone home after the fight. At least if he was here the two of them could ignore me together.

"Ow, watch it," Raph mutters, pulling his arm away.

"Stop being a baby," I snap, grabbing hold of his arm to continue my work. "I'm almost done."

He huffs and scowls, but stays mercifully silent as I set to work cleaning out the worst cut along his collarbone. It's deep and precise and he hisses when I disinfect it. It's his own fault. Every single bruise and cut is his own fault. He should have stuck to the plan instead of running off on his own. Donnie is unconscious and bleeding in the other room and that is Raph's fault as well. I'm exhausted and it grinds my patience and rational thought down to nothing. I grit my teeth and press down harder than I should. He pulls back immediately and turns his scowl in my direction.

"What is your problem?" he declares and I resist the urge to punch him in the face. If Raphael wants a fight I'll give him a fight.

"You're my problem," I reply and he almost looks surprised. "What were you thinking? You could have gotten killed! You almost got Donnie killed! And for what? Some ridiculous quest for revenge?"

"I wouldn't expect you to understand," he says and his voice is low and more than a little dangerous. I don't care. I'm not afraid of Raphael.

"You're right. I don't understand. I don't understand why you did the one thing he asked you not to. Unless…"

"Shut up," he says, cutting me off and I see red.

"Excuse me?" I growl, ready to give him a real piece of my mind.

He takes hold of my head and turns my face towards the television, stunning me into silence. "Boss lady," he hisses.

It's a news conference, the hasty kind with too bright lights and glowering, awkward police officers looming in the background. Amelia Zhao stands behind a row of microphones, somehow looking both incredibly put together and disheveled all at once. I don't like to throw around the word hate lightly. It's an ugly word that only makes the user uglier by proximity, but I hate Amelia Zhao. I hate everything about her. Raph's hand closes over the top of mine and I understand. I understand why he did it. It wasn't smart and it wasn't right, but I understand. She hurt our family. She has to pay.

"This was a cowardly, unforgivable act of violence," she says, leaning towards the microphones. "My business partner is in critical condition and the damage to our warehouse is irrevocable. This was not an accident, but a planned and well-orchestrated attack on my business and the good work we do. Those responsible will be held accountable. We will not rest until they are brought to justice and pay for what they have done here today."

She leans back and walks away from the microphones without another word, despite the hollered questions of the gathered media representatives. The picture switches back to a well-quaffed news reporter and I feel Raphael's hand lift from my own. The couch groans as he sits back.

"So…the blond guy is still alive," he muses around a painful looking swallow. "I thought for sure Sensei…" he doesn't finish his sentence, he doesn't have to. I have my suspicions of what would happen to someone who hurt one of Master Splinter's sons in front of him.

"You don't think they can find us, do you?" I ask and his noncommittal shrug does very little to calm my nerves.

"Nah," he finally mutters. "Donnie'll…"

He doesn't finish, instead letting out a snort of air through his nose. He was going to say that Donnie would update the security system; that the lair wouldn't be found on his watch. I always knew they depend on him for a lot, but the extent of that dependence never really occurred to me. The security system is just the tip of the iceberg. The lights, the hot water and probably every other mechanical or electric appliance in the lair was kept running by Donnie. He made the sewer a comfortable place to live for his family and without him there wouldn't be anyone else to pick up the slack.

"He's going to be fine," I say, as much for my own benefit as Raphael's.

His hand balls into a fist where it rests atop his leg. He stares straight forward and I wonder if he heard me. The cut along his collar bone is bleeding again and I feel bad for having pressed on it. I'm about to offer to finish cleaning it when his voice stops me.

"We can't let them get away with this," he says, closing his hand tighter when it starts to shake. "That woman, she…she's not right. She'll hunt us down."

He turns to look at me and the intensity in his eyes frightens me.

"I know you think what I did was reckless and stupid, but you weren't there, April. You didn't see her eyes. You didn't hear what she said she'd do," he stops with a sharp intake of breath. "She can't get away with it, what she did, what she plans to do. I have to make the hard choices so my brothers won't have to."

I lean back and shake my head. "We can work together…" I start to insist but he cuts me off with sharp, cruel words.

"I meant what I said before. Protecting him…them…it's my job. This isn't your fight."

It hurts. I'd be lying if I said it didn't. I thought we were friends, no, more than that, I thought we were family. A great need to defend myself rises in my chest and his intense look doesn't frighten me anymore. It makes me angry. He doesn't think I'm good enough for his brother. He thinks I'm petty and aloof and only using him until something better comes along. I shouldn't let his opinion unhinge me so completely, but I do and it does. I think of him, of all of them, as brothers and his words sting with nothing short of betrayal.

"Do…do you really think so little of me? Do you think I'm not good enough for him?" I ask, using all of my training to keep my voice from waiver. I don't want to show him anymore weakness.

The intensity is gone in the space of a blink and his green eyes flicker downward, brimming with shame. "That's not…this has nothing to do with what I think."

"It has everything to do with that," I snap, my anger biting and undeniably present behind the words.

He shakes his head and hits his fist against his kneepad. "No, April. It doesn't," he sighs and forces himself to meet my gaze. "Where exactly do you see all of this going?"

I grind my teeth and make a fist of my own. "That's not…"

"No, that's everything," he says and there's pain lurking behind his usual mask of anger. He sighs and pushes up from the couch to pace. "Sure, everything is all fine now, but what about in a couple years? Or a couple months even? He can never have a normal life, April and if you…if you're with him neither can you."

I stand and try to catch hold of his arm as he passes by but he pulls away from my grasp. "In case you haven't noticed Raph, my life isn't exactly normal anyway."

"And you don't want it to be?" he demands, turning on me. "You don't want to go to college or get a job or have…have a family? You're a person April, he's not and the more you lead him on, the more hope you give him that things can change the harder it's going to be when they don't."

I stumble backwards as if his words struck me. My heart is hammering out an uneven rhythm in my chest and I fight back the urge to flee. I want to run from his accusations. I want to go hide in Donnie's lab and listen to him excitedly explain his newest project, but I can't, because he's hurt and unconscious and who knows what else. I lift a hand to my mouth to stifle an embarrassingly pained noise that stumbles out of my mouth before I can stop it. It isn't fair. Raph heard it and he stops pacing long enough to shake his head before stepping forward once more.

"He wants all of that, you know. You'll never get him to admit it, but he hates it down here. He's fooling himself with you and it's going to break him when you leave. I don't…I don't blame you, April. I know you think I'm being an asshole, but…but I can't keep my mouth shut on this. I have to protect him, because he won't do it himself."

"Protect him," I murmur, shaking my head. "From what? From being happy? From having something beyond all of this?" I ask, waving my hand at the lair in general. "You keep saying all of these…these horrible things and claim it's to protect him, well, despite what you may think, Raphael I'm not going anywhere. I'm not something you need to protect him from," I say, doing my best to keep from screaming at him. "And any relationship has the possibility to end. So you shouldn't try to be happy because it might not last forever? If you want to live your life like that, be my guest, but do not put your emotional baggage on us."

He has stopped pacing and the shocked expression on his face is almost enough to quiet my anger.

"Uh, guys?"

I flinch at the sound of Mikey's voice and instantly feel an embarrassed blush race across every inch of my exposed skin. He's lingering at the top of the stairs in front of the lab with his hands gripped in front of him. He looks worried and I wonder how much of our fight he overheard. Raphael gets his wits about him first, clearing his throat and rolling his shoulders as he cracks his neck from one side to the other.

"What is it, Mikey?" he asks, softening his tone before adding. "Everything okay?"

He nods and rings his hands together. "Yeah, it…for now. We filled the breaks and Sensei cleaned his wrist," he says, reaching up to rub the back of his neck. He sounds tired and I can understand why. "He's awake if you want to say goodnight. Master Splinter and Leo are going to move him to his room soon."

He's awake. He's awake and he's going to be fine. Everything is going to be all right. I don't care about my stupid fight with Raph. It doesn't matter. It's not what's important right now. Donnie is awake and he's going to be all right. He has to be all right. Raphael's hand settles on my shoulder and he gently pushes me forward.

"Come on," he says and I can't decipher his tone. It's flat and emotionless, but at least it isn't angry. "He'll want to see you."

I try to catch his eye, but Michelangelo has already grabbed my hand and hurries me up the steps. He pushes the lab door open with a cringe-worthy squeal and ushers me inside. The air in the lab is heavy with the distinct odor of resin and it takes me a moment to realize that is what they probably used to mend his shell. Donatello is on the lab table, a thin pillow propped under his head and fresh white bandages wrapped around his right arm and torso.

I inch up to the table. Even though Mikey said he's awake I don't want to risk disturbing him if he fell asleep in the in-between. His eyes flutter open when I'm close enough to touch him. Pain, and probably the knock to his head, has made his eyes glassy and I rest a gentle hand on his left arm; afraid to touch anywhere else for fear of hurting him more.

"H-hey, April," he says, his strained voice trailing off into a cough that makes him wince.

"Shh, it's all right," I say. "Don't try to talk. We can talk later. You need to rest."

He nods and swallows around another cough. "You…all right?" he asks, ignoring my request.

"Yes, I'm all right," I reply, taking hold of his hand.

"And…and Raph?" he croaks. His eyes flutter shut, but his grip tightens on my hand.

"I'm right here, Buddy," Raph says, stepping up beside me. "Everyone is all right, so stop worrying and get some sleep."

He rests a hand on Donnie's arm. "We're gonna put you in your bed, all right?"

He nods and mumbles something incoherent before letting out a stream of giggles.

"He's on a lot of pain meds," Leo explains, standing by Donnie's feet.

I lean over and kiss Donnie between the eyes. The skin where his mask usually sits is soft and cool beneath my touch. "Sweet dreams," I whisper. "I'll be here in the morning. I promise," I say, giving his hand a squeeze before stepping back to let his brothers move him to his room.

Master Splinter stands beside me and his hand rests on my shoulder. Everything is going to be all right. It has to be.


	29. Chapter 29

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's notes: Wow, so this is the last chapter. A little bit of a time jump. A few weeks have passed and we're back in Donnie's POV.  
> I can't believe I finished this fic so quickly, it might actually be a record for me. Thanks again to everyone who stuck with this story all the way through, I hope you liked it.  
> As promised there is a sequel and a couple one-shots in the works as there are things that need resolving after all is said and done :0)

Chapter 29

"Hajime!"

I wince at the sharp tone of Master Splinter's voice and slowly lean over to retrieve my fallen staff. I dropped it. Again. For the twenty seventh time in the last hour. I've been counting each day, keeping track. I need to know if I'm improving at all. To the casual observer it would appear that I'm not, but I at least know that yesterday I dropped my staff thirty times in the first hour so really, twenty seven isn't all that bad.

_Not good either._

I can't think like that. I can't listen to the bad thoughts, they won't help anything. I shift on my feet and wipe the sweat from my forehead with the back of my hand. I'm not doing anything particularly strenuous, it's basic form really, but I feel as though I've been running across rooftops for hours or fighting off an entire army of Kraang. I'm covered in sweat and I ache with each movement. It has been weeks since I was injured and it'll be even longer before I'm remotely close to where I was before.

_If you ever are. Can't even close your hand all the way around that staff, can you? Can't wield that one-handed, Genius. There's a fight coming, what good will you be?  
_

I grit my teeth and settle into my stance. Master Splinter nods and I start to go through the movements. I know them. I've known them since I was a child. This is simple, should be simple. A few kicks, some precise jabs and sweeps and twirls…

_Dropped it again, hotshot. Why not just turn yourself in to the company. Save everyone the trouble.  
_

I can feel my blood boil at the sound of the staff clattering across the ground and come very close to kicking it like a petulant child until Master Splinter's voice stops me.

"Hajime."

I take a deep breath and lean over to pick it up. He waits for me to get my footing. It takes me longer than it should, but he waits just the same. Everything takes me a long time these days. I close my eyes and focus only on my hand, curling my thumb and finger around the curve of the staff in a steady, yet fluid grip. I can do this. This is easy. It's a simple kata; a few movements, one right after the other, just hold on to the staff and get through it. I open my eyes and look towards my Sensei. He nods and I begin again.

_Don't drop it. You're going to drop it. Oops, almost slipped there. You're going to drop it._

"Ha!" I exclaim when the staff shoots forward with the last jab and stays firmly in my grasp. "I guess the twenty ninth time is the charm," I say with a tired grin.

I stamp the end of the staff onto the ground, my mini triumph falling to pieces as I lose my grip and the staff clatters away once more. I stare at it for one, horrible, rage filled moment and lift my foot with every intent of kicking the stupid thing straight through the wall of the dojo. Master Splinter places his hand on my shoulder and I lower my leg and do my best to look contrite.

"Perhaps that is enough for today," he says with the tiniest of smiles. "You did well."

_That's a bit of an exaggeration. You did all right at best._

"I can do it again, Sensei," I say, leaning over to retrieve the staff. "It was sloppy. I can do it better. I know I can."

"Tomorrow," he says and that's the end of it.

_He knows you can't do it better._

I stand up straight, leaving my staff on the ground to mock me. Pins and needles shoot down to the tips of my fingertips and I shake out my hand in response. Master Splinter catches me around the wrist, turning my hand over where the light of the dojo catches the shiny, raised scar tissue. He bends my wrist and presses his thumb into the palm of my hand before moving slowly from one joint to the next. The pressure sends the pins and needles running, but the whole extremity from the elbow down still feels like a heavy, clumsy mess.

"We will practice again tomorrow," he says, letting go of my hand. "You must not push yourself too hard so quickly. You could risk re-injuring yourself."

I nod. "Hai, Sensei."

He's right. I know he's right. I'm trying to be patient. I know healing is going to take time. Anger won't solve anything, it won't make me heal any faster, but every time that stupid staff slips from my hand it is hard to remember that. I settle into my stretches while he starts cleaning the dojo. I'm not well enough to train with my brothers and the space looks incomplete without all four of us to fill it. I just have to try harder. If I focus more I'll be on my feet in no time. I'll be ready for whatever is coming. We all will be. I just have to try harder. Tomorrow I'll only drop my staff twenty five times.

"Clean up, I'll make you some tea," Master Splinter says with a swish of his tail over the ground.

"Hai, Sensei," I say with only the smallest wince.

Master Splinter's teas of late have been bitter, medicinal brews that fight the whole way down and don't always rest once they reach my stomach. The walk to the bathroom is a slow, languorous one full of missteps and shuffled feet. My endorphins have properly crashed and exhaustion sits heavy on my shoulders. I fumble with the shower nobs and catch sight of my reflection in the mirror before the steam blocks it from view.

_You look awful._

I'm still not back to fighting weight and without my kit on I'm all elbows and knees and boney shoulders. The bruises have faded and the more shallow cuts are only a memory. The crack across my plastron however, is still very much there. I was lucky. The wound wasn't deep enough to reach the muscle underneath. It will still take time to heal, but it will heal and eventually only the lightest of marks will remain. For now though, for now it was jagged and reached around to the edge of the bridge looking as though someone tried to pry me out of my shell or more accurately kick me to death. At least it didn't hurt much anymore.

The hot water is wonderful and I let out a small sigh when it hits my skin. I slide down onto the small stool along the shower wall, leaning my head into the water. My eyes close and the constant drumming against the back of my neck makes my thoughts heavy and further apart. A bang on the door startles me to my feet and if it wasn't for the bar running along the wall I would probably slip. My heart races and even without anyone around to see it I'm embarrassed to have fallen asleep.

"Hey! Hurry up, man!" Mikey shouts from the hallway. "Breakfast is on!"

"Be right out!" I shout back, hurriedly washing myself clean before turning off the water.

I shiver the instant the cool air touches my skin and the tremble causes a flash of pain around the edges of my cracked plastron. I ignore it. There's nothing else to do at this point. I dry off and decide against putting my mask on before slowly shuffling off towards the kitchen.

_Can't even tie a bandana, how do you expect to get any real work done?_

My brothers are gathered around the table with Master Splinter at the head. Mikey is chattering on about his latest videogame acquisition while stacking pancakes onto plates. Leo is doing his best to listen, but his eyes are glazed over and he seems more interested in the food. I take the seat to Master Splinter's left, grateful to be off my feet.

"How many pancakes do ya want, D?" Mikey asks, holding up the spatula like a sword at the ready.

"Uh, two," I say, instantly crinkling my nose in annoyance when Raph talks over me.

"He means four," he says, piling a plate high and dropping it with a clatter in front of me. "How do you expect to gain any weight if you eat like a bird?" he grumbles, already shoveling his own breakfast into his mouth.

I have a very good response about him eating like a different kind of farm animal, but the slow slide of china across the tabletop catches my attention. Steam rises from the teacup and even at this distance the smell of it turns my stomach. I don't reach for it so Master Splinter pushes it closer to me with an expectant nod of his head.

"Oh, um, thank you Sensei," I say, clearing my throat and avoiding his eyes. "But I'm not thirsty."

The disapproving throat noise is like a clash of symbols and more than one of my brothers snickers into their breakfast in response. "It isn't for thirst," Sensei replies, taking hold of my hand and wrapping it around the cup. "It is for your health. Drink it."

_Tastes like the bottom of a subway car._

It's bitter and awful and makes my stomach lurch with a dry heave. Master Splinter takes the empty cup from my hand and starts to clean his tea set.

"Eat your breakfast and go to bed," he instructs and I frown in response.

"Sensei, I was hoping I could work on the fan in the vent over the dojo this morning. It's not running at full capacity and I really think if I could…"

"Eat your breakfast and go to bed," he says again, cutting me off. "Perhaps later I will consider it."

_He will not consider it._

"Hai, Sensei," I grumble, stabbing at the pile of pancakes with clumsy fork falls.

Raphael waits until Master Splinter heads to his room before rounding on me with a smirk. "Did you really think he was going to let you crawl around in the vents?" he asks with a chuckle. "You must have hurt your head worse than we thought," he adds, drilling his knuckles into my temple.

"Shut up," I mutter, pushing him away only to earn another laugh for my efforts.

"Back off, Raph," Leo says, more out of habit than actual disapproval.

Raphael laughs, but goes back to shoveling food into his mouth without further incident.

Mikey drops into the chair beside mine and starts eating with equal enthusiasm. "They okay?" he asks around a mouthful of food, motioning towards my plate still full.

"Yeah," I reply, taking a hasty bite. "It's good."

It's not a lie. They're actually delicious and when Mikey sets a cup of coffee in front of me I grin and almost think it is some cruel mirage. "Coffee? Really? Thanks, Mikey."

"No problem, man. It's the fancy stuff, but only one cup, all right? And don't tell Master Splinter," he says in a whisper with a cheeky grin.

I close my hand around the warm mug and breathe in the glorious scent. Weeks, it has been weeks since I've had coffee and that might be the biggest injustice of all. "Not a word, I promise."

"That stuff will rot your insides," Leo says with a sigh, but there's a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"Worth it," I reply with a careful sip, letting my eyes drift closed.

_It's everything you dreamed it would be._

Mikey picks up his videogame prattle as though he was never interrupted and the rest of our breakfast goes by as hundreds like it have before; with food and good natured teasing and stories. I try to clean my plate, but it's a lost cause and I push it away so I can lean forward and rest my chin on my forearm. It's almost as if everything is back to normal. I close my eyes and listen to the ebb and flow of their voices and try to forget the unwavering anxiety that has been plaguing my thoughts since Master Splinter pulled me from that warehouse. The warm room and my full stomach only encourage my exhaustion and I don't realize I've fallen asleep until Leo shakes my shoulder and I lift my head to find we're the only ones still left in the kitchen.

"Oh, s-sorry," I say around a yawn, rubbing my eyes. "Just resting my eyes."

"Uh huh," he says, draping my arm over his shoulders without asking. "Come on, time for bed."

We shuffle down the hallway and the sounds of Mikey and Raph sparing reach my ears. "I got it," I say, slouching out from under his arm. "Go on, you're late for training."

He looks doubtful. "All right…but go straight to bed."

"Yeah, yeah," I say with another yawn and a dismissive wave of my hand. He doesn't look convinced so I turn and head towards my room to prove my point. "Have a good training session, Leo."

My room is dark and warm and I collapse onto the bed and flail around for a few moments before finding a position that doesn't hurt my hand or my plastron. The blinking light on my T-phone catches my eye and I reach over to snag it from the bedside table. I slide my thumb over the screen and smile when I see the message from April.

**How was training?**

I roll onto my back and type in my response.

**Good. I made it through the kata. How was your calculus test?**

A grin crosses my face as I drum my fingers and wait for her response. I can picture her moving her thumbs across the keypad with a little crinkle to her nose that pushes her freckles together.

**B+ Thanks to my tutor ;0)**

There's a squeak of a floorboard outside my door and I hold my phone to my chest with wide eyes.

"Donatello, put the phone away and go to sleep," Master Splinter says.

_How did he know?!_

"I was just about to, Sensei," I insist, typing frantically.

**Gotta go. Splinter. Call you later.**

"Put it away or I will take it away," he adds and I have no reason to believe it is an empty threat.

I put the phone back on the table. "Away," I call out and even through the door I can hear his annoyed throat noise.

"Sleep," he says simply, walking away from the door.

I settle back against my pillow and pull the blanket up to my chin. I should drift right off to sleep, I'm exhausted enough. I close my eyes and in the darkness can hear the faint sounds of my brothers training in the dojo. I should be with them. Even if I can't participate I should be there. Not put aside like a cow out to pasture.

_Take your nap, baby._

My eyes snap open and I stare up at the ceiling. I tell myself to close them, to go to sleep. I want to sleep. I need to, but there's something else waiting in the darkness, someone. Those eyes wait for me when I close my own. They're cold and unfeeling and stare right through me. I hate that I'm afraid, that she got under my skin so completely. The warehouse was destroyed and the containers along with it, but she came out unscathed and I can't imagine she's happy. We have been laying low the last few weeks and I beefed up our security as best I could from my sick bed, but we can't hide forever.

She'll come after us. It's only a matter of time. We'll just have to get her first. This isn't revenge it is survival. Kill or be killed, eat or be eaten. It's animalistic and base and my stomach turns at the thought of it. Killing does not sit easy with me, no matter the target, no matter the justification. There has to be another way. There has to be a way where our hands aren't bloodied. I broke through their security system once. I can certainly do it again.

_She was awfully concerned that you stole information. She must be hiding something big. Would be a shame if that something mysteriously found its way to the proper authorities._

I live for that moment of discovery, when all of my efforts come together and the path is clear. I know what has to be done and I know I can do it. I won't let her scare me. I won't let them hurt my family. I'll take the company down brick by brick if I have to and she'll never even see it coming. I am still. I am calm. I got this.


End file.
